


Spies are KINDA stupid

by pinksugarsalt



Category: Archer (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Anime References, Assassinations and Spying, Attempt at Humor, Bizarre Movie and Song references, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Trauma, Drinking, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Its Archer guys, Jock is actually a Nerd, Krieger and Reader are a Duo, Musical References, Mutual Pining, Pining, Sexual innuendos, Slow Burn, Stereotypes, Swearing, Use of Google Translate, i hate malory and it's going to be shown, no beta we die like men, omakes guys, reader has a backstory, really slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 70,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28184175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinksugarsalt/pseuds/pinksugarsalt
Summary: After a CERTAIN INCIDENT at ISIS, Malory has been in need of some new help. Thank god for volunteers. Coming in contact with the Department of Defense, a certain recommendation has come in from multiple countries, as a woman is in need of some more work and looking for more experience in a work environment after her own CERTAIN INCIDENTS. Well, ISIS could use an ACTUAL professional couldn't it?The worlds best assassin meets the worlds best spy.Chaos Ensues
Relationships: Sterling Archer/Reader
Comments: 31
Kudos: 33





	1. F: Before you Read

**Author's Note:**

> just something to read before you actually READ...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some basics before we begin!! please read, so you know if you actually WANT to read

* * *

Hello! I'll be your author, and we are about to go on a journey!! Into the motherfucking Danger zone.

Before we begin, I want to make sure my writing style meet up with your expectations, and some things to expect! Like how certain things will be written. My first and foremost goal, is to meet your expectations, and hopefully take you on this trip through Manhattan. 

Readers name will be shown as : **Name** | Readers full name will be shown as : **Name Reaper** _( yes the last name gets made fun of later, just give it a few )_

This is in use to avoid messing up the immersion, and so we don't have to deal with Y/N just about everywhere, cause I've seen enough Y/N in a lifetime. I'm sure we all have, we all lived on Wattpad at one point. 

**My writing style:**

Walking over to the desk, he leaned. Only ever so slightly, not to invade your personal space of course, but enough for you to know he wanted to. God what a dick, why did you sign up for this job.

"Wanna- head out? Get a drink," he smirked.

"I'd rather die, thanks," You muttered, not looking up from your phone.

* * *

**Hopefully, this works!** Also!! This is my first AO3 work, as I want to fill sections that barely have ANY content for them. Archer being one of them. My plans for this story are:

A slow burn, like this will be a REALLY slow burn. Archers a dick, he really is, and I want to make him a bit more likeable but obviously that takes time... cause its Archer. There won't be any specific look to the reader, besides how she dresses. Outfits will be somewhat described at times, but besides that. I don't know how many chapters, but, expect quiet a few. 

Omake's will happen!! Which are bonus things, of non-canon interactions between the characters. 

Reader is a Female ( she/her ), that dresses in a lot of black ( reasons explained later ), Has a backstory, Serious at the beginning but after more fun and excited, typical nerd.

Starts in between episode 4 and 5 of season 3! So The man from Jupiter happens, I couldn't even comprehend. 

That's about it!! I hope you decide to read!! I'll try to update when I can, but yeah! Support is great! Comments help me work, and I'd love to see your guy's opinions!

\- pink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sterling deserves some appreciation


	2. The Ministry says…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so it it begins... the rivalry of the century...  
> Just kidding this whole thing is a joke to him! Like who would ACTUALLY think he wasn't good at his job??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you haven't already, I suggest reading the previous chapter so you get a nice vibe of whats going to happen. Thank you for selecting this, and lets begin! begins between s2e4 and s2e5

* * *

With a sigh, Malory shifted her position in her chair. Kidnapped by pirates, is what her idiot son had done. It was such a Sterling thing to do, but nonetheless it was an incident that couldn’t be overlooked. This would lead to the one question that Malory had been wanting to ask for a bit, but for cost reasons had to be put to the side. She didn’t even WANT to think about it… Why- wasting money, on what could be used on ANYTHING else?! But alas… Gillette was now a paraplegic. 

They would have to get a new agent… wouldn’t they?

Putting her drink on her nice, redwood desk, she pulled out her Laptop. The password was typed, and it automatically opened to the Ministry of Defense for all countries in the world. She was given this laptop, by the oh so handsome Prime Minister of France, but rarely used it of course. Now she was in need of a new agent, and she didn’t just want to pick one off the street. She already saw where that took her.

Scrolling, Scrolling, and more scrolling. Clicks, and taps and there she was. The directory for more spies and workers. Multiple agents from places around the world. Some from France, Italy, Canada. More from Singapore, Egypt, and Turkey than she would’ve thought. None of them seem to fit what she wanted… 

More and more scrolling.

This was going to be harder than she thought. She needed someone who seemed like a chump, or someone in DESPERATE need for a job. Someone who was good at work though, like the next Bill Gates. Wasn’t he a piece of-

FOCUS MALORY! She kept on tapping, and clicking. 

Finally, she went into a different section. Assassins, which were right next to spies and intelligence. Clicking the section, she hummed. Much less than before, but these people had REEKED up informality in their images alone. Some looked like they had never showered, or didn’t even look like killers in general.

Suppose that's what made them good at their job. The fact that they didn’t even look like they did it. 

Going through each section in a rather bored manner, she kept on clicking, scrolling past all their profiles. A majority of these were men that looked more than unhygienic. She did NOT want more of that in the work space. 

Finally coming across the last person of the entire list… She stopped.

No real name shown. An image of a pair of dainty hands in cuffs, holding a piece of paper over their face. On said paper, was seemingly a closed jack in the box drawing from what she could tell. How immature… Next to said things, was the profile.

The Jack in the Box, known for humming a whatever tune before killing said victim. Kill count of over 2,500 worldwide, deemed the world’s best assassin as of [ 1 year ago ]. Works for Japan, Italy, and America. In desperate search of a professional job, after the incidents of February 15th, 20XX. Not recommended by JMD, IMD, EGMD. 

Well, Well, Well… This intrigued her. To say the least.

Whoever this Jack in the Box person was, seemed to be a pro. Best assassin in the world? That’d give a GOOD name to ISIS that’s for sure. In DESPERATE, need too? Why, she might as well have hit the jackpot!! Sure it wasn’t a spy, but assassins were closely related.

Clicking the full profile, a warning automatically came up.

_‘ This ASSASSIN is known for their nature to either do a job fully, or not at all. Are you SURE you would like to view? ‘_

Below was a little Yes or No in the warning, and she clicked yes with no hesitation. She NEEDED this person. 

Viewing the full profile, she saw more descriptions. Reviews from ministries, governments, and other clients that were from the deep web. Good god. Saying how they fixed up whoever they wanted dead, and did so quickly and efficiently. Wow.. It was like a match made in heaven almost!!

After scrolling through the profile fully, she had officially decided. Jack would be joining their team of spies. Below it all, was a set of contacts. Contact the person themselves, or the ministry for permission.

Luckily for her… The ministry wanted nothing to do with this Jack!! Looking at the number, she pulled out her phone and started typing in the numbers. 

Soon the digits were in, now she needed to make the job offer… Malory thought hard about how to seem professional about hiring.

 _M >_ [ Hello! My name is Malory Archer, Head of ISIS. I viewed your profile on the Ministry of Defenses Website, and saw you were in search of a job. How would you like to work as a spy for my agency. We can work out the details if you come to my office, and we can see what we can do! I reside in Manhattan, New York. ]

Adding the address to the end of the message, she felt satisfied with her work. Why… Why wouldn’t they want to work for her! Closing her messages, she gave a satisfied sigh.

She had to do everything in this goddamn place didn’t she?

* * *

Finishing a job was always the fun part of the day. The late night breeze kept you cold, and aware of being alive while the adrenaline rushed through the body. Japan was beautiful at night, and it was something that was never going to change. It never changed, no matter who died. That's what kept the job so interesting and intact.

Already cleaned from the action was always nice too. Especially when there wasn’t much blood to begin with, and just a rinse in the sink would be nice. No one would find your fingerprints anyway, what were they gonna do- find you in the database? Pffft- sure. 

Shivering, and enjoying the sway of the weeping willows and the red flowers in the garden. They laid in front of the home, giving you a good view from the roof. How relaxing...

The sudden vibration in your side stopped all those thoughts.

_Probably the stupid tax collector calling or something-_

Slightly shifting on the roof, the wind blew deep into your skin and hair. Your phone had gone off, for the first time in months honestly. Pulling it from the skirt pocket, it illuminated onto your face. A REAL message.

That was another first.

An unknown number. Maybe it was one of those old grandma’s thinking they were texting their nephew but they got the wrong number. Swiping up, you pulled up your messages and read very closely to the screen.

This was not a message to a nephew.

Rather, a job offer. Not the usual one though, as those people called. This one was different. This one, was a FULL time job offer in a TEXT. At a spy agency nonetheless. The name threw her off. ISIS was a weird one, but she recognized it after mistaking it for terrorists.

 _M >_ [ Hello! My name is Malory Archer, Head of ISIS. I viewed your profile on the Ministry of Defenses Website, and saw you were in search of a job. How would you like to work as a spy for my agency. We can work out the details if you come to my office, and we can see what we can do! I reside in Manhattan, New York. ]

Well, well, Malory. New York?

Standing on the roof with the phone still in your palm, a smile played at your lips. The breeze continued on, because it didn't stop.

It doesn’t stop just because people die.

“Well, I suppose, being a spy will look good on my resume,” You laughed a bit, dusting the dust off your backside. 

Jumping off the roof, you land on the side of a balcony railing. The hardwood hits your soles, as you turn to look at the window that leads into the home. The lights are off, and a person is asleep on the couch. Not your target, as he’s been taken care of. Just his wife, unaware of the person viewing. 

Still going over the message, you hum. Starting to type a response.

 _Y > _ [ Thank you so much for the offer!! I’m currently in Japan right now, about 2 am in the morning. Since it’s 12 for you, I should be able to come around the morning. I’d love to take this full time job offer, but I’d like to see the environment first! I have a home in Manhattan already, but yes! I’ll be there at 10 am. ]

That's polite! Right?

Hopefully this Malory chick wasn’t a bitch. 

Shifting the phone back into your pocket, you jumped off the balcony. Still humming a tune for the wind. Swiftly landing on the grass on the traditional home 

“It’s time for some change,” you mutter, walking away from the targeted area.

Right in doing so, the lights of the home flicker on. The shrill scream of a woman being heard as you turn the corner, getting ready to take a plane to America. 

* * *

“What do you mean we’re getting a NEW agent MOTHER,” The protests from the office could be heard throughout the entire workplace.

Well, now the whole place knew, no need for Pam.

“I didn’t ask you to yell Sterling,” Malory muttered, sipping her from her glass.

“Yeah, I know. I ask you WHY, we already have me, maybe Lana,” Archer exclaimed

“We _had_ Gillette, but now he’s-”

“Disabled?” Ray shot Archer a look, glancing into the office with his wheelchair in tow.

Archer looked at the guy. Squinting only ever so slightly, and sipping his drink as well. Nodding, and not even saying a word. He wheeled off, while Lana came over to stand in the doorway. Great more people that heard it. Just what they needed. 

“I for one support it. We need more people, preferably not like Archer,” She remarked.

“Thank you Lana,” Malory faked a smile in her direction.

“Who’d you hire?”

Malory paused. Taking another sip of her drink, she turned a bit in her seat. The other agent walked in fully, standing next to the only other field worker as well.

“Well… Apparently according to the Ministry of Defenses- the world's best assassin.”

Archer choked on his drink, not spitting it out, but choking on it nonetheless. He swallowed it, before downing more from the glass. Pam and Cheryl looked into the room, and laughed a bit at the notion he had done. 

“Uhm… No. You don’t just hire the world's best assassin mother,” he air quotes his words, before finishing it off with a laugh. “Where's the actual punchline?”

“It’s not a joke, I hired them. They should be here around 10 they said,” she explained, clicking the button that opens the screen above her desk. Showing the person's profile, the same one she saw last afternoon. This time though, it said working in bold by their name. 

Looking closely, Lana took her time to read the description and some of the reviews given. Pam had officially barged in with Cyril, as they viewed the profile in silence. Going over the name, the image, and the number of confirmed kills around the world. 

“Well shit. The office is a mess, should he really be coming?” Pam asked.

“Well don’t just say that!! Go clean the place!” The woman exclaimed, motioning for her to leave.

With a few mutters, Pam left. Archer continued to examine the profile, before sipping his drink again. Oh like hell someone was just going to come in claiming to be the BEST assassin, and take his role as BEST at everything. 

“Well, maybe tell this Jack to leave. We don’t need him.”

“Well, do you have any other idea of another agent we should hire,” Malory asked, poison and acid in her tone.

“Literally _anyone_ else.”

Lana hit his shoulder, and he muttered an _ow_. The two had to explain how it was HIS fault for running away, and everything in between about how Ray being disabled was also his fault. The explanation and yelling went on for a while, while the drink in his hand just kept on being emptied and refilled. He was bored, and honestly… not paying attention to why it was _his_ fault. Like sheesh, he was mourning.

Eventually, they noticed his dozing off and just stopped all together. Continuing the conversation of this new recruit by themselves. Cyril joined in, while Pam and Cheryl ‘cleaned’ the office. This would probably just be some interview with some dude who THOUGHT they were hot shit, that would end up not even working with them. 

The buzz and noise around him just kind of blended together while he drank, before suddenly the distant sound of the elevator opening was heard.

Oh this was happening now?

“Oh! That must be him,” Malory smiled, scooting away from her desk and standing.

Walking to her entrance with a drink in hand, she kept her professionalism ( and sex appeal ) at the ready. Everyone continued to stay seated and standing in her office area, waiting for said person. Soon, Malory's expression went from overjoyed to more confused and honestly upset.

“You must be Malory,” a somewhat feminine voice said, staying on the outside of the doorway. No one could get a good glance at the apparently FEMALE.

“And you must be-?” The older woman asked.

“You’ll get my real name if I decide to work here,” your tone returned, a somewhat snarky but polite remark.

Malory led you into her office, drink still in hand. Finally they got a better view. A woman in a fully black outfit, head to toe. Black button up, skirt, leggings, socks, and boots. Nothing more, and not even a speck of color. Archer, to say the least, was intrigued. You were attractive for sure, but was not what he had anticipated. THIS was the world's best assassin? 

Sure. This edgy goth chick killed more than him?

SURE.

“This very much does not look like a male mother,” Archer turned to his mom, with a very upset tone. “We have ENOUGH women in the office.”

“Wow Archer,” Lana deadpanned.

“Sterling! Get out of here, now,” Malory, pointed to the door in an angry manner. He scoffed, and didn’t move.

Not moving from the spot, he sipped his drink and swallowed. “I should know my future _coworker_. If anything, Cyril should leave.”

Lana forced Cyril out, while the other two workers stayed from a distance by the door which was now closed. The assassin sat down in one of the chairs, hands in your lap in a polite manner.

No one said a word while Malory pulled a few things up.

“So, How was the trip from Japan?” the Boss asked.

“As it usually is. Tiring, slow. I personally haven’t been in America for almost 5 years,” you laughed.

“Where the hell is your accent then,” Archer asked from behind.

“I’m fluent in a lot of things, which I’m sure you aren’t.”

OH THAT-

“I’m sure you know who I am,” he proceeded to walk to the side of the desk where you were sitting. Leaning his arm on the side, and glass staying carefully in his hand. “Sterling Archer. Best spy in the world, Codename: The Duchess.”

“Never heard of you. You must not be a good spy if you’re well known.”

THIS B-

“Well, I’ve never heard of you. You must not even be the world's best assassin.”

“That means I’ve done my job. Just proves I’m better than you, if my hits aren’t even that well known,” you smiled, looking at him.

He paused, eyeing the condescending look you seemed to have. Despite you sitting down, you were far higher than him in attitude and maturity just on looks. You took your time to take in his features as well. Attractive sure, that meant he could pull off honeypots. But what else did he have going for him besides his looks? Based on the few sentences of interaction…

Nothing, besides hot air. 

Finally, Malory pulled up what was needed on the screen behind her. She began her speech about ISIS, about what they did and why she should try working with them. Like an opposite job interview. The two other workers went back to their place by the door, as the presentation went on.

Using them as reference every once in a while, for opinions on subject matters such as missions and other things they did in the office. Mostly using Lana, as Archer didn’t know how to behave for shit honestly.

After what seemed like hours of talking, and try hard efforts, you stopped them. The mumbling of a thank god from Archer was heard. You clicked a button on the desk, turning the presentation off. Standing from your seat, and smiling. “I’d love to work here Ma’am. No need for such a long presentation.”

GOD DAMN IT!

Leaving the room in a huff, the door to the office was closed with a harsh hit. 

Looking at the rest of the people waiting outside the door, he took another deep breath. Exhaled.

“She’s hired apparently-”

Pam fist bumped the air. “YES!! She’s hot, this is a win!!”

He rolled his eyes, and leaned on Carol's desk. Setting the drink down, un-coastered. Another god damn it. “Jeez, use a damn coaster.” “Shut up.”

Soon as he set the drink down, the door to his mothers office was opened again. Out came the so-called assassin, Lana, and Malory. 

“Well ISIS, meet our new member. Ms.-?” Malory put her fake smile on once more, as you nodded.

“I’m Name. Not Jack. Sorry to disappoint with not being a guy,” you chuckled at the last bit. “I hope we can get along.”

“We can, I’m sure,” Lana added, putting a hand to her shoulder with a smile. “If the office ever seems overwhelming, just let me know. I’m here to help.”

“Jeez Lana, get your man hands off her,” Archer added.

...

* * *

_[ おまけ: Omake: Bonus / Non-canon… maybe ]_

Leaning over the balcony you smiled. Your target was indeed dead, and no one would find out. The wife was passed out on the couch, and the target was dead in his bed. Stepping off the wood, and onto the actual patio..

You slipped.

Head first into the wood, the wife woke up quickly. She looked around, in a panic. Looking at your stiff and trembling body trying to get off HER patio. The police were called.

The police linked you to her husband's death, as you were arrested for first degree murder.

No one ever made it to ISIS. 

\--- 

“Oh how rude of me… Would you like a drink?”

“Oh no ma’am, I don’t drink,” You laughed, hand up in denial.

She paused, and looked at you like you were some idiot. What the hell- what kind of adult doesn’t _DRINK_. Or a Killer at that.

“You know? I don’t think you’ll be a good fit for ISIS,” she smiled. Can't have some kid having a mental breakdown cause they don't drink or whatever.

\--

“Mother,” Archer coughed, looking at the image of the so-called assassin.

She huffed. “Yes _Sterling_?”

“Why are you hiring a toy? I don’t think jack in the boxes will help us,” he frowned.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. Taking a deep breath and an exhale. Deep breath, and exhale. 

\--

Standing in the doorway, you smiled.

Everyone turned their head to see the girl that was apparently joining them in the future.

They took in her outfit, but no one said a thing. Archer decided to actually say something.

“Wow, you going to a funeral or-”

“Yours, if you don’t shut up.”

\--

"Can you believe we're love interests!" Archer laughed, motioning for you two.

You took a deep breath. "No, I honestly can't"

_[ おまけ: Omake Over ]_

* * *

Moved back in and satisfied with your decision ( only ever so slightly, that one Archer guy made it very iffy ), you looked around your apartment. Small and modest, especially for someone with as much money as you. Not modest if you brag, but-

It had all your previous items. A bed, TV, Books, and clothes. Looking around the area, it had the same look as previous houses. Not as big, as it wasn’t really needed. Most of your time would be in the office anyway, it was just here for all your pleasure and entertainment. Kitchen had 0 food in it, so that was something that would need to be done. 

Grabbing one of the empty grocery lists from the fridge, you threw it on the bar and went to your bedroom to grab a pen. Finding one on the dresser, and making your way back to your kitchen.

Before anything was even written, or a hand was on the tile to steady your writing position… a buzz came from your pocket. God damn ok. 

_M >_ [ Hello! Still Malory. How soon can you do a job? ]

You huffed, and leaned on your hand. Of course. 

_Y >_ [ probably a day or two. Jet lag, I’m still human ♥ ]

That should shut her up, she might be your employer but- hey you were here for some more experience and work. She’d be working on YOUR time, not hers.

Going back to writing your grocery list, you hummed a song going through your kitchen. Seeing if you needed any utensils as well, but you were fine on that. Just food.

Twirling, with the list in hand you magnate it on the fridge. You could do that tomorrow, it can be a take out day today. For now, you were in need of new clothes and guns. Based on the status of ISIS, they might not have what you needed.

They needed to fit your grip so you could do your best work, and also have silencers. Oh wow, you sound like a spoiled assassin brat now don’t you?

Shaking it off, you checked your room again. 

Mostly- white and light clothes. Same style that you wore now, but all white and some shades of pink, yellow, and blue.

Well shit we can’t be having that either, how else were they supposed to know you didn’t want to be messed with. Black was definitely in need, so there was more need for reds too.

Got to keep that edgy pro look.

Leaving the bedroom, you flopped onto the couch. You could do this all, in a bit. Jet-lag was still a thing, and you were exhausted. Flying third class made you less inconspicuous, but the seats were the WORST. Just sitting on this ‘new’ couch was great. The fluff of the pillows, oh wow. 

You had a hunch feeling you’d need this couch more that you were working in New York, and like stated before…

That Archer guy seemed like a real pain in the ass. It also seemed like he wouldn’t be leaving any time soon, as Malory was his mother. Who you also didn’t really like, based on all the dirty looks she gave you. Lana seemed nice enough, more genuine from the others. 

The Uhm- Cyril was it? He seemed- nice. Nice enough, more like a victim of bullying from that stupid Archer-

On that note, why don’t they call him by his first name like Malory. If their both ARCHER, wouldn’t calling him steel- or Sterling be easier?

Whatever, you needed to relax… stupid plane.

Taking a deep breath and an exhale, you shifted onto the pillows more. A nap wouldn’t hurt, it might fuck up your schedule but- it’d help nonetheless.

Drifting off, you relaxed more into the pillows. The grey fabric being the last thing you saw, and hearing the small hum escaping your lips to help you doze off

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are appreciated!!


	3. There's no caffeine in alcohol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow... this is only day one-  
> Thanks a lot Archer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p: 12/30/2020 | h:47 | k: 2 | c: 1

* * *

Day one of the job. 

Yawning, in your now NEW old home, you got up in a groggy way. Having gotten the needed weaponry, clothes, and food, the week would be starting off good. Monday, you were accepted on a Friday. 

Jumping out of bed, you grabbed the needed clothes from your wardrobe, and made your way to the bathroom. Getting dressed quickly, and doing all necessary hygiene, and making breakfast was a cinch.

Quickly, the food was eaten, and you were out the door at the time of 8:30 am. 

Small purse in hand, you decided quickly that walking would be best. You weren’t in any rush, and were not getting any breakfast either. Besides, you didn’t have a car yet- that was another thing to do.

20 minutes down the streets of Manhattan, you made your way to the laundry cleaners. Showing your NEW ID ( Fancy right? Laminated and everything ), you went up the elevator. 

The needed buttons were clicked, and you steadied yourself. 

This was it. Day one at work since the incident. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Fixing your bow on your button up, you smiled to yourself. A kind of new start.

When the elevator binged, you weren’t met with a welcoming face at the front desk like before.

Rather, the smashing of a mug smack dab next to your head.

“Ugh, damn. I thought you were Cyril,” Archer muttered, leaning every so slightly out the doorway. 

You glanced, back at the floor which was now covered in a shattered white mug. Then back at the idiot who had thrown it.

Ignoring it completely, walking past the empty receptionist area, and into the office workspace. In less than ten seconds, a person bumped right into you.

“GREAT! New employee, follow me,” a white coated hand grabbed you, turned around and started leading you OUT of the office, and into a side room. 

WAIT- No, who was this. What. No-

Being dragged, but not really protesting, you were led into a lab. Finally said person turned around, and revealed himself to you. Glancing, before sitting down on a computer right in front of you. Not even saying a word.

Uhm.

“Excuse me- I have to get to work,” you told this- seemingly a doctor man person, and walking away slowly.

“NO- Wait,” he looked up quickly. He coughed into his hand, and stood up. “I’m in charge of making weapons, and poisons here. My name is Krieger, I have a few- questions I need to ask you.”

Mildly confused, you crossed your arms and looked around the lab. God everything was happening so fast, you hadn’t even taken in your surroundings. A few test dummies in clothes and bras, and some weaponry and bullet proof vests laid around. 

Did you remember what the office looked like? Not off the top of your head.

Once more, you were grabbed by your wrists and sat down in a chair. A swab of your mouth was done quickly, and while you were processing everything all at once, more typing on the computer was heard.

Wow, slow down- You touched your jaw, and rubbed it lightly.

Finally, after what seemed like barely a minute, said _‘Krieger’_ looked up from his computer.

“You’re Japanese right?” He asked quickly, before getting up and going into a backroom.

“I-” Before you could answer, a giant metal box was slammed in front of you.

Wow ok.

“Doesn’t matter, your primary station area is Japan. Same thing,” He shrugged, working on the back of the metal, crouched down.

“Actually I’ve done more jobs in Italy than I have Japan,” you started, but were cut off with buzzing from the giant box. What the hell.

Suddenly, a pink haired figure was shown in front of you. A Hologram at that.

“Explain to her why the church won’t let us get married, she primarily speaks Japanese and mine is very rusty,” he motioned to the girl.

Ok, _WHAT. What the hell was this._

“I- I’m sorry- I don’t understand,” you got up from your seat, but were shoved down by his hands. Whelp, no escaping this.

“Tell her that me and her can’t get married, because the church said no,” he pointed to her.

_WHAT??_

“I- I’m sorry, do you think I speak Japanese because I did work there-? I mean I do, but that doesn’t mean- No besides that, why should I? I’m supposed to be in the office with Malory right now-” You explained.

“I’m aware, just do this.”

Wow. Not cutting corners now is he.

You coughed, and roughly translated what he wanted to say to the holographic girl. Immediately, after your words she started crying. Wow, once more. A lotta wows today.

Getting up, you quickly attempted to find your way back to the office while this- doctor dude comforted the fake girl.

Barely making it out the door and into the work place again, you exhaled. Wow, this was a quick start. Making your way to the main office room, you were stopped... _AGAIN_. Bumped into _again too_ , first day at the office still. This time, it was unwanted.

“Oh, hey new girl,” The spy's voice came, drink in hand, but he steadied it so it wouldn’t spill.

You blinked, and continued to walk away from his direction. Protests were heard, and he caught up with your speed walking.

“I wanted to apologize, for my awful behavior,” he stated, stopping you right in front of his mothers door. The statement reeked of lies. “As an apology, I’d like to invite you over to my place.”

_That's where it was going. God what a whore._

“We could have a nice night, enjoy the scenery,” Archer smirked, sipping his drink ever so slowly.

“I don’t want an STD, I’ll pass,” you mumbled, shoving him and entering Malory's office.

Entering quietly, and closing the door behind you to avoid looking at him. That would make things that much easier. 

* * *

Did. 

Did that just happen?

Did someone just- deny him to his face, at first glance. 

“Newbie: 1. Archer: 0,” Pam laughed behind him.

He muttered a shut up, and leaned on the door ever so slightly.

This was going to be more difficult than he had anticipated. He put his ear to the door to listen to the mumbles and discussions his mother and new girl were having. Barely hearing anything and just the words of the occasional _‘yes ma’am’._

God this snotty, little all black dressing chick was a pain. 

Suddenly, the door opened. He fell forward, and made eye contact with his mother. Who looked VERY unamused. 

She sighed, and sipped her drink.

Soon after, you exited after her. Adjusting your top, and looking at the spy. Unamused as well.

“Sterling, you and Name will be having a mission tomorrow. I need you two to get to know each other's styles, and whatever you spies do to get along,” she explained.

He laughed, and stood up straight. “Mother, I don’t NEED extra training. I do perfectly fine-”

She cut him off. “I’m telling you, that you WILL. She specializes in killing people, and not taking in information. I want you to do whatever you need to do, then report back when you’re done.”

Silently, you walked up next to her. Serious as you were when you entered the room.

“I hope you’ll be able to keep up, considering you always have that glass in your hand,” you looked at Archer. He huffed.

He sighed, and looked over to Pam and Carol. 

“Two to zero,” Pam smirked.

“Two of what?” Carol asked. 

You rolled your eyes, and made your way past the spy. Motioning for him to follow, like he was some- dog. God damn-

He obliged, setting his drink down on Carol's desk. Following you into the elevator, and clicking the button that led to the weaponry.

The ride down was awkward. He didn’t know how to just talk to someone as STIFF as you. God.

At least Lana could _‘take’_ a joke, or Cyril would give some sorta funny reaction. You? You were just an ass.

Going up and down on the heels and soles of your foot, you waited for the elevator to hit it’s needed number. He glanced back every once in a while, to see the same expression never leaving your face.

UGH.

Quickly, he pulled out his flask and took a swig from it. You looked at him the moment he took a drink and cringed. He noticed this, and looked back down at his drink.

“What? Is like- Alcohol not your thing??” He scoffed.

You looked at the drink and then back at him.

“Why do you drink alcohol, there's caffeine in coffee. And there is less of a chance of cancer from Coffee too-” you motioned to the metal.

He blinked, before laughing.

“Alright two things Miss stiff-ass,” he put two fingers up.

You squinted at the nickname, but the elevator door opened. He muttered a ‘walk and talk’ and this time you listened.

You followed as he explained.

“Number one. I’ve beaten cancer, I can do that shit again. Alcohol had nothing to do with it,” he smirked, opening the door to the weaponry.

There was no way you were going to believe that, he knew. But still, no harm in telling. The look on your face said that.

“Number TWO!” He started, opening the next door into the area. “There's no caffeine in alcohol idiot,” he laughed.

“It’s bad mixing that stuff, I have SOME respect for my body.”

You paused, and thought about it while he grabbed a gun.

* * *

Grabbing your needed weaponry, you made your way to the shooting range. Ever so silently, you followed him, judging him for every drink of his flask he took.

Now you at least knew there wasn’t any caffeine in alcohol. He had gone into how mixing the two would cancel effects, and wasn’t good for the body. Like a true alcoholic, he seemed to know so much about it, and bragged about his knowledge on it.

Disappointing to listen too, really it was.

Knowing this ass was going to be your partner tomorrow…

Loading your gun holder, you adjusted your grip on the handle and aimed at the Target. The grip felt loose, and the handle was way too small for your taste. But all the others were too big, and slipping up with a big gun was worse than a small.

“God this is too small,” you muttered, fixing your position once more.

“Ha, phrasing,” Archer smirked, shooting his gun with no hesitation, no warning whatsoever. You didn’t even have your headphones on, god damn it

The ringing in your ears stung, as you heard muttering and him motioning to his ears.

“God DAMN IT,” you yelled, to nowhere. Still slight muttering.

Finally his tone came into the range of your barely hearing. He was still tapping his ears. Talking about what to say when you couldn’t hear and how it helped. What?? What was he SAYING-

Finally…

“God did you actually go deaf? Sayyy MWAP, it helps. I swear,” he tapped his ears.

You blinked, and looked at the idiot. You could hear now, thank god. He chuckled, as you processed his words.

“Maybe give me a warning next time, I don’t wanna go deaf,” you rubbed the side of your head, grabbing your headphones after setting your gun down.

Before you could, he stopped you. A pissed off expression was apart.

“I am kind of sorry for shooting the gun. Not really, but-”

You slapped his hand off your shoulder, and quickly put the headphones on. Shooting the gun at your target, before he had a chance to get his on. 4 Bullets straight in the head, one hitting where you knew important nerves were. There wasn’t a ringing in your ears, thank god.

Turning your head to him, he was holding his ears. Muttering the word he had said before. Mwap was it? Yeah.

You smirked, as payback had been received.

“MWAP- YOU BITCH- can you even-” he mumbled to himself, getting his hands on his gun, and holding his head with one hand. He groaned, and leaned over the table. "I have so much ear damage."

"Cause you're not a professional, Archer," you responded, getting the headphones back over your ears. 

He stood up properly, coughing. He could hear now it seemed. You smirked, as he shot you a look. He fixed his outfit, and adjusted his tie. He grabbed the headphones, and put it on finally.

Now you both were in your respective areas, with the proper ware. Thank god.

How to ruin this for him now….

“So-” He started again, shooting his target. Hitting the shoulder, just barely. He cringed at his shot. 

You shot a much better shot than him, and turned your head in his direction. “Yes, Mr. So- called-the-best-Spy?” You smiled.

“Since, I'm going to be doing most of the heavy work next mission, let me get to know you. Ya know? Come over tonight-” He ignored your previous remark.

“No.”

“Fair enough. What’s your name again?” He asked.

_Wow, this- was not shocking._

“Name. Last time I’m telling you,” you responded, shooting his target. Much better once more.

Another awkward silence, you both had to deal with. Only the occasional cock of a gun, and a bullet being shot. Your professionalism was apart enough to archer, you made sure. He hit his shots, just not as GOOD as you were.

He was pissed off, that was for sure. He didn’t LIKE being out done, he wasn’t used to that. The way his mother treated him, and how everyone else was pissed off by his cockyness. God, it was so obvious of what a sore loser he was. You almost felt bad, but not really.

Cause you can’t feel bad for someone like him.

“So- What's your favorite restaurant,” he asked randomly. 

You scoffed, and shot once more. “I don't- I don’t really have any favorites.”

“What? Not even some fast food place or something? Like is there a place you go to when you finish a job?” He tilted his head.

“I leave 5,000 meters of a job to make sure I’m not caught, so my priority is leaving. Not food.”

“So not even McDonalds.”

You huffed, and put your gun down. No more rounds, and you were annoyed. This SOB... “I don’t know Archer. Maybe Arbys or something, maybe Denny’s. Why are you asking??” 

“Just wondering ya know?” He smirked, finishing his last round.

A roll of your eyes, and you leaned over the counter.

“Favorite Color?”

“Why are you asking?”

He whistled, and looked at his target. “Figured it might be black, I dunno.”

“You’re an ass.”

“I get that a lot,” he responded, grabbing the empty square holding the bullets. He threw it into the trashcan by the door, and removed his headphones.

Those are reusable- but ignoring it, you left before he could follow. He was a pain, and you had other plans for tomorrow. You would have to hit up that- Krieger dude for a Sedative. Not for you.

Rather for someone else, and someone you didn’t want to deal with or interfere with your job tomorrow.

Hopefully he takes hypnotics well.

. . .

* * *

[ おまけ: Omake: Bonus / Non-canon…. Totes ]

“You wanna come to my place?” Archer asked, smirking ever so slightly.

You scoffed. “No, I don’t want an STD.”

As you walked away Pam stopped you.

“Hey you wanna come over? Spend the night?” She asked, smiling.

“Oh sure!” You smiled, clasping your hands together.

Ah she was a lesbian, of _course_.

\--

He set his drink down, and the moment he walked away… he heard a smash.

Turning his head, the glass was shattered and Carol was- upset?

“Use a goddamn COASTER!”

\--

Aiming the gun, you shot it. Expecting it to be smack dab in the middle of the forehead of the target, it was on the arm.

Archer smirked, and looked over to you. “Are you _SURE_ you’re the worlds best assassin?”

Quickly, you shot him in the leg, and screams were heard.

\--

“Uhm- So I guess, I should get to know you,” Archer huffed, firing a bullet quickly. “Favorite Restaurant?”

You glanced at him, and smiled. “Denny's.”

He blinked. “Well... What about-”

“And if we go now, we can get 20% of pancakes. That’s right 20%, lets go Archer.”

\--

“This entire piece of fanfiction is a anti-drinking commercial,” he muttered, looking at his script.

You threw a wad of paper at his head.

\--

[ おまけ: Omake Over ]

* * *

Mission number one would be happening tomorrow. Which you had to admit, you were kind of excited / un-excited to do. It was a mission under orders, for the first time in forever! Then again, it was with Archer. Who at least knew his limits.

He asked for intercourse, maybe twice. Which was less than you were anticipating after the first time he asked. 

Making your way into the laboratory ( you got a map and everything ), you found Krieger working on whatever the fuck was on his desk. A monkey- you assumed. You folded the giant wad of paper of the building, and shoved the scrap into your pocket.

He looked up, and coughed into his hand. Same expression as he always seemed to have, neutral. He looked- neutrally tired. 

“Ah, Ms. Jack in the box,” he stated, no question or enthusiasm to his tone. “What do you need?”

You paused, and fixed your top. “I need a sedative.”

He got up, in a somewhat excited manner. “Well, this is the right place. What do you need? Who’s it for? Tomorrow's mission?”

“Sterling Archer sedative. Something that keeps an alcoholic asleep,” you responded, crossing your arms. 

“Ah, I have a lot of those. Follow me,” he responded.

You smiled ever so slightly, following him into a small area covered in different types of plants. Large and small, all green, red, and purple. He pulled a mask over his mouth, and crouched. Motioning for you to stay back, only so close you could be.

It was somewhat amusing to watch him try to figure out which plant would keep him sedated. You knew he was a drinker, so it would be harder to keep him asleep if he was used to these types of things. Small talk, talking about the time limit you would need to finish the plan.

You told him about your plans, and he seemed amused. Glad you were doing such a thing, with HIS sedatives. He kept on talking every once in a while to the plants.

“So are these all rare plants or-” You started.

“All of these are rare, or nonexistent ones I’ve developed myself. They all have names.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, like this one is Orin, for reasons,” he pointed to a green and white one.

“Nice Seymour, I assume it's a laughing gas type,” you joked.

“You flatter me audrey two, of course it is,” he responded, picking up a purple and green one. 

Large, but not too big. “We can take the leaves of this one, mix a bit of stuff together. Get him to drink it, and he’ll be knocked out for 30 minutes.”

“Plenty of time. When can it be done?” You asked.

“Uhh, like 10-15 minutes.”

“Can I pick it up tomorrow? I don’t want to bring a sedative into my home.”

“Fair enough. You get used to them after a while,” he shrugged.

You didn’t wanna ask, he was already weirding you out from this morning. He placed the plant on his table, after proceeding to shove the monkey (??) to the floor with a crash. Wow priorities.

“Yeah, I’ll start this right away. Lemme get your number, I’ll message you when it’s done.”

Fair enough, this weirdo guy was making you a drug for your least favorite person in the workplace. He could get your number. You pulled your phone out of your phone pocket, but while doing so he pulled a pair of gloves over his hands..

“Why-”

“You don’t wanna know what I’ve touched.”

You nodded, and handed him the device while he implanted his number. He handed it back, and in the notes of the contact it read ‘Seymour’ and you chuckled to yourself at the little notation.

You know? Maybe you could make some friends.

“Depending on if I get distracted, this will take about 15 minutes to 2 hours.”

“Right. Thanks for this, don’t tell Archer or-”

“I never tell Ms. Archer anything, you’re fine.”

Man’s got his priorities, thank god.

You thanked the ‘scientist’ and made your way out of the lab, and on your way home. Thinking about your day, and how if you were to scale it on a scale of 1 to 10.

It’d be a 6/10, at most.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are appreciated!! Glad to continue this story!!


	4. It's just a SHIP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> finally, a proper mission! that can be done, by ONE person. thanks sedative.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always try to write at least 3,500 words per chapter, so I'm gonna see if I can start updating every Saturday.  
> p: 1/6/2021 | h:80 | k: 6 | c: 6

* * *

Sitting with a Capri-Sun in your hand, leaning on Malory's EXPENSIVE side table ( she made sure to tell you ), you listened to today's agenda. Next to you, was Lana not drinking. Next to Lana, was Archer, who was drinking. 

It’s really easy to see who takes work seriously. You caught on that the actual workers were Pam, Ray, Lana, and sometimes Cyril. People who were literal JOKES include: Archer, Malory, Cheryl, and Krieger. 

At least Krieger didn’t interrupt every conversation to ask someone something stupid, like Cheryl and Archer.

AT LEAST KRIEGER, got your musical references. Some people and their audacity. 

At least Krieger was cool. He can go into the working section you guess.

Patting the sedative in your side pocket, you smiled. The mission today would be going swimmingly. In the other pocket, was your phone on silent. 

With messages from the _‘scientist’_ saying to make sure it’s NOT in your pocket, unprotected.

“Are you even LISTENING,” Malory exclaimed, addressing you.

You left your thought bubble, and leaned on the counter sipping your Surfer Cooler Capri-Sun.

“No,” you retorted. “I know how this is going to go down, can me and Archer leave yet? We might miss the yacht.”

“Finally, you say something worthwhile,” the spy laughed, and sipped his fancy cup. 

“Shut up,” You and Lana stated at the same time.

He huffed, but as did Malory. She seemed unamused. She got up from her desk, and walked to the side table you guys were on and started pouring her drink.

You cringed, and sipped your Capri-Sun. This office was a mess. When she finished, she sipped it and stared at the people for the job.

“Go ahead to the boat. It leaves in 4 hours, and the drive is 2. Go get ready you two,” she said in a rather upset matter.

“DIBS ON DRIVING,” He exclaimed, leaving to go to the weaponry. Leaving you behind with a disappointed and annoyed expression.

“You get used to it,” Lana patted your back.

“I don’t want to get used to it, he’s so- unprofessional,” you shook your hands by your head, in an aggravating manner.

“He’s unprofessional, but he’s a- god I don’t even wanna say it. He’s a good spy, but even if he’s good he makes horrible jokes. He gets things- done sometimes,” Lana explained.

You looked at the idiot, jamming the elevator button. Only for it to open, and Brett to walk out. He was shoved to the side, as he jumped into the elevator and motioned for you to come with him. 

He said something between _‘HURRY UP!!’_ or _“Stiff-ass!!!”_ you couldn’t tell, he was too far away.

You gave Lana a strained look, and the pity in her eyes was enough for you to leave. Slowly you went to the elevator he held open. Finally arriving, and going down to the weaponry.

The two of you made your way to get what you needed, the necessary changes. 

Manhattan, New York to Greenwich, Connecticut. Or at least to a port in the area. Then you’d board a yacht, pose at party goers, get some bombing plans that ODINs trying to get from some evil doers, kill some guys, and leave via helicopter

Easy plan, it’s been done multiple times before. 

You got into a black bathing suit, and a water skirt to go with your swimwear. It covered your whole body, like a leotard, excluding your legs. 

Archer had a button up, and swim shorts on. Also a bag full of silencers, guns of your choice, and some coms. Usual things that were needed. You looked into the bag.

_WAS THAT BOURBON???_

You grabbed the large glass out of the duffel on first sight, and pulled it to his peripheral vision in an angry manner.

He shrugged, but you left it on a desk. Then proceeded to shove him into the elevator, while he protested and tried to grab it before the door closed.

God this was… Day three? You’ve known him for FOUR. 

The sedative plan couldn't happen sooner.

He proceeded to pout the elevator down, and an hour into the car ride. 

Denying to drive, making you in charge of it. Which you shot with, _‘I haven’t driven on the right side for almost years’_ considering your job.

Which prompted a, _‘I hope we crash then.’_

A literal CHILD is what he was.

And so the drive to Connecticut was quiet, and slow. The traffic is what Malory anticipated. It would originally have taken an hour, but you were ALMOST there, and an hour and fifteen minutes in.

Only thing that could be heard was the engine, not even the radio.

But it was nice, since Sterling fucking Archer was pouting about not getting a drink.

Which meant he was quiet for once in his li-

“What kind of music do you listen to?”

Shouldn’t have said ANYTHING.

“You don’t care. You’re just asking so you can play yours.”

“Whatttt- Why would I do that. Who do you think I am?!” He faked shock, hand to his chest.

You shot him a look. A look that said _‘I want SILENCE.’_

“Because in the 4 days I’ve known you, I know you're a selfish asshole,” you turned back to the road.

“Jeez, I _literally_ just want to play Kenny Loggins, or ABBA. Girls like ABBA right?” He looked at you intently. “Wait- you’re edgy. Lemme guess…"

You looked at him, expecting the worse.

"Wheezer.”

You slammed the breaks at the next traffic jam it seemed, and his body was sent forward. His head hitting the car… hard.

He yelled, and you kept your eyes on the road.

“OW- WHAT THE SHIT-” He got up, and rubbed the top of his forehead.

He turned his head to you, seeing the neutral expression still in place. “You’re a bitch.”

“At least I’m not a needy alcoholic with no sense of respect for anyone.”

“IS THAT HOW YOU SEE ME?” He exclaimed.

The road started up again, and you hit the gas pedal. “That’s how everyone sees you.”

That- actually shut him up. 

The drive was once more quiet after the interaction. You were slightly upset. Over the fact he called dibs ( if you call dibs you GOTTA do it ) to drive, then made YOU drive. 

Then proceeded to bother you for a solid 5 minutes, before pouting more at the fact you hurt his forehead.

Like said before. A man child.

Finally arriving at the port 20 minutes ahead of schedule, you left the car. And looked at your reflection in the car reflection. Archer followed suit with the duffel in his hand, and a backpack for smuggling. 

You fluffed your skirt, and before smiling- you remembered. You were at work.

“You remember the story and ticket names?” You asked, walking around to grab the bag.

You watched as he shoved his gun into his pants, safety OFF, and then opened the backpack. He looked up, and you grabbed the bag.

“Yeah I think I do. _Obviously_ I do... Run it by me again,” he told you, getting the needed weapons and putting them in the bag.

You sighed. “My name is Catherine Glenn. Your name is Tim Henson. We’re siblings celebrating our college graduation.”

“You sure those people were _more_ than just siblings, what's with the different last names” he remarked, chuckling.

You rolled your eyes. “They’re made up. Ever heard of marrying in college? Or different parents?”

“I don’t think _you_ have, you seem like the type to _lack_ parents.”

“Rich. Coming from you,” you squinted, covering the weapons with a few shirts. 

He locked the car door after slamming it shut. The duffel was under the seats, and another agent would be coming by to pick it up. 

The sheer color difference between you too hurt. He wore white and blue, while you had your dark colors. 

There was NO way, you’d pass off as siblings by sheer clothing alone. Also the problem with looking like college students. You might be fine- but archer. He was what? Almost 40?

Eh, people fail graduation in their 30’s a lot-

_What year was it???_

“Hey, Stiff-ass. Come on!” He motioned for you to follow. You huffed, and slung the backpack over your shoulder, being careful with the sedative in the side pocket.

Both of you made your way to the large ship.

The bright white, and many people boarding. Archer had the tickets, and on the side of the ship was its name. 

**_S.S Circus._ **

“Look Archer. A ship for all your clowning!” You turned to him, to see his unamused face in place.

He ignored the remark, and you two made your way to the ship. Walking up the ramp, and waiting behind a set of people. He was in front of you, to hand them the tickets.

After waiting a while, he hands in the tickets. You were checked, and he was- thankfully… Not checked in his…

Lower areas.

Finally, you made your way onto the ship. Immediately, the annoyance in Archer's eyes turned into Joy.

Right- Alcohol.

“Oh my god… Look at this… place. I’ll never be tired of being a spy because of all this _luxury_.”

“This Luxury,” you motioned to the entire ship. The pure white, and ladies walking around, bar, all shown in the motion. “Is not for us. They check all those tickets after everyones on board. We have 8 hours at MOST before they realize those are fake.”

“Wait, we didn’t pay for those?”

“No Archer. Why would we pay for a Yacht we’re leaving and not even using.”

“Cause we support Yacht dealers, obviously.”

“This Yacht dealer…. Has bomb plans.”

“Well, you don’t know his life. Maybe he built this entire yacht dealership, from his BARE hands. And now he has bomb plans, tooo-” he watched a woman walk by, drinks on a tray. 

You snapped, and his attention went back to you. “Maybe he’s being forced to hold the bomb plans by the KGB or something. Those assholes always like fucking us up.”

You rolled your eyes, and went over to the bar. Do it now. Get him to drink it _now_ and the sedative wo-

“Great Idea. Drink before we start,” he unbuttoned his shirt from the top down. He started grabbing what he _‘needed.’_

With a huff, you went down the entire bar area, trying to get away from him.

Kids snacks, Kids snacks-

Stopping at a large table filled with gummies, crackers, and AH!

You snatched a Capri-Sun from a cooler.

Walking back to him, you looked to see him filling a long glass. Filled with ice, and an unknown substance too you. He finished it off with a little umbrella parasol.

You took the straw off, threw the small plastic bit into a nearby trash can, and watched him drink his unknown toxin. He looked at your drink.

“Jeez, what’s with you and Capri-suns.”

“They’re good.”

He just kinda stared at the plastic, before continuing his drink and turning around to look at the area.

He seemed to be taking in his surroundings, so you did the same. Sipping your…. This was a- Wild cherry! Nice. You both took a mini tour around the Yacht with your drinks in hands. 

Lots of kids running around, nice rooms. Great flooring. The place looked genuine, and it was odd that a lot of kids were running around on a boat that had a bomb threat/plans on it.

Making your way to the bedrooms, you looked around the fell furnished areas. 

“Right. We should go find the captain.”

The two of you began to look around, finding someone that would give you guys an actual TOUR. Having to deal with Archer's dumbass remarks, and just opinions- on things you didn’t want to know.

Like every chick you guys passed, or how a gun felt in one’s pants, or how his drink was, and you quote… _‘the best yacht drink I’ve had.’_

It eventually was empty. So he placed it on a tray passing by, and you threw your Wild Cherry in a local trash can.

Not finding ANYONE, that would give you a tour was a pain. It led to having to ask someone.

Thankfully, someone agreed. He claimed to be the person in charge of making sure guests were satisfied, and once more. 

“Phrasing,” Archer laughed, and you hit his arm.

“Excuse my brother,” you gave a fake laugh.

“It’s fine ma’am, my name is Barnaby Quail. Call me Mr. Quail,” he grabbed your hand and kissed it.

Ah this shit…

“Ah, Mr. Quail,” you giggled, and _OH THIS WAS PAINFUL._ “Me and my brother were wondering if you could give us a tour of the ship. We’re on our Graduation vacation and it’d be lovely to see a lot of the ship. As well as other things.”

Mr. Quail smiled. 

Archer looked disgusted by this man himself. 

The two of you were taken on tour of the WHOLE yacht. Taken to places you two didn’t get a chance to see beforehand. 

A fucking ballroom. A LARGE DINING HALL. A spa?!? 

**The boilers.**

He concluded the tour, and proceeded to _DITCH_ you both in the boilers, for a _‘customer in need,’_ as he put it, since his com went off. The wooden floored and walled area surrounded you both, covered with the occasional wood door.

“You think he was just gonna get a blowjob from one of those waitresses?’

Back to where you started, wanting to punch or hit him.

You just ignored him all together. If anything, the boilers might be the best place to find bomb plans. If musicals taught you anything, then god damn its the boiler room. Oh yeah, and your job too. Your job gave that knowledge.

Opening each door, you continued to look while Archer followed suit on the other side of all the doors.

Before you could open another, a man walked out, as he was adjusting his hat.

“Oh I’m so sorry ma’am,” he gave an airy apology, but it seemed genuine.

“Oh no it’s fine, we had our tour guide disappear on us. We were just looking for him,” you responded, and Archer came up behind you.

“Yeah his name was Barnaby, pretty sure he went to get a blowjob.”

You ran a hand down your face in shame, and annoyance. The man stuttered, but he adjusted his tie.

“Well Ma’am, and sir. I’ll be sure to address- Mr.… Barnaby. I’m the co-captain of this ship. The exit is up those stairs to the back, and if you need anything just call on our room phone,” he concluded.

You two nodded, and turned around to the stair area. Archer follows behind you, trying to hold in a laugh and just snickering. 

You turned your head to see-

The Co-Captain attempting to sneak away, and into a door you two hadn’t checked.

At the near end of the hall.

You hit his shoulder, and pointed a finger at the culprit. He took notice, and when he entered the other room.

Both of you quickly made your way to get in on the conversation.

Leaning only ever so slightly on the door, and barely getting bits and bits. But the annoying part was heard.

“And with these plans… WE’LL RULE THE WORLD!!” The Co-Captain laughed, to his- what you guys assumed was his helper.

You two exchanged glances, and left the view of the boiler. 

After a good distance away, he started laughing.

“Did you hear him? Oh my god- Rule the world??? What is this, a cliché Disney Movie?!?” He laughed to himself.

You huffed.

* * *

The two of you made your way down the hall, to retrieve your bag. And maybe actually start the mission. Grab a drink on the way too-

“God what is this, the most popular song by Tears for Fears?” Archer whispered kinda.

“Wh-What?” you asked, confused.

“Everybody Wants to Rule the World? Good god, listen to music.”

“WHAT??” You exclaimed, fixing your bathing suit again. 

“God I knew it, you are a Wheezer person.”

You snapped, and hit him upside the head. 

“ _You want a reference_? You’re the sixth song in Britney Spears’ In the Zone.”

He paused, and thought about it. “Wh- Wait-” He tried recalling them all. “Early Mornin’??”

“ **_Toxic_ **, Dumbass. Early Mornin’ is before it.”

He paused, and tried recalling the list again, and realizing his mistake. 

Fair is fair, he supposed. You had a point.

“Alright so what's the plan? Cause I have one, and you can just wait in the bunk-”

“I have one, it’s better than yours,” You responded, and he chuckled at your words.

Sure you did.

“Alright what is it? It probably sucks,” he asked.

The two of you entered the bunk, and you crawled on the bed to grab the bag. Opening it, you grabbed your gun, and cocked it. Safety was put on, and it was zipped up again.

“First. We get a drink, it branches off from there.”

OH WOW, did- did that come out of _your_ mouth? Miss stiff-ass said, GET A DRINK? Oh my god maybe it was a good plan.

“Oh never mind, it’s like mine. Let's go then,” he smiled.

Bag over your shoulder, and gun tucked into your skirt, you both made your way back to the bar. Rather than him being in fron, you were. 

Sudden initiative, he can dig it. 

You entered the main area before him, and stopped him before he ACTUALLY made it to the bar. 

“Wait here, I’ll get you a drink.”

He blinked, but stopped you.

“Woah woah, Miss. Anti-Alcohol-” he began.

_“Will you ever call me by my name-”_

But he continued. “You don’t know what _I_ like.”

You took a deep breath, and looked at him. “Archer, I’m a professional. My job is to infiltrate and kill. Who do you think powerful people rely on for their drinks, and clothes? Their _Mistresses_. I’m sure I can make- something you like.”

He took in the information you just told him, and concluded- yeah you were right. If you were GOOD at your job, you’d know how to make a drink. 

He sat down on one of the beach chairs while you made your way to the bar to make something for him. 

This- This reeked of suspicious activity.

Relaxing in the sun, getting his tan on, you returned with a- Holy shit a margarita glass?! It looked peach flavored.

The ice coating just made it look more good, plus you were being nice to him? Shit it might be suspicious, but it was NICE.

You gave him the giant glass, and he sat up. He sipped a GOOD portion of it out of the glass, while you just stood there with another Capri-Sun in hand.

Ugh, it’s Strawberry Kiwi, don’t you have any class?

Sipping more of it, you just kinda stood there.

And that’s when it hit him. The sudden dizziness, and the realization that GOD DAMN HE’S BEEN DRUGGED. 

“Y-You work for them??!!” he slurred, putting the drink on the floor, trying to keep his balance.

“No. I just want to do this job alone,” You shrugged, sipping the Strawberry Kiwi with a small hum.

He scoffed, and tried getting up. Failing, miserably. “God damn it- get a good Capri-Sun flavor if your gonna drink it-”

You looked at the plastic pouch, before he finally passed out on the lawn chair. 

God damn it.

* * *

What the hell was wrong with Strawberry Kiwi??

You looked at the passed out Archer on the seat, and smiled.

Okay woah, chill that's unprofessional. 

You adjusted your skirt quickly, and made your way to the captains quarters quickly and quietly. Gun was out now, and you slinked through the halls.

You’d have to thank Krieger later for the hypnotic. He did you a BIG favor, and making a sharp turn you realize the Co-Captain was coming down the hall. You went back, and backed into an extra room.

You turned behind you to see a child, confused and shocked to see you in the room. He was playing with a toy train.

You gave him a smile and a ‘oops, wrong room-’ and left, the moment he passed you. 

Jeez, hopefully he didn’t see your gun.

You continued your way down the hall, quickly, and going up the next set of stairs.

A guard stopped you on the top.

“No one is allowed past here, this is the Captain’s Quarters,” he stated, hand up to stop you.

Okay 2 options. You knock him out, and risk him recognizing your face in the future. You kill him, and he’s dead. No problem.

The latter is preferred, but the silencer wasn’t activated yet.

Quickly, you swung a leg at him. Knocking him down the stairs, and putting him on the platform in between the stairs you were on now and the one leading down. You went back down with a small jump.

He rubbed his head from the sudden impact, but in response you grabbed it and slammed it onto the tile. 

He passed out right there, and you sighed.

A shame, really it was. You made your way to the top, while activating your silencer.

There sat the Captain, who you HOPED was innocent.

Silently you closed the door behind you, and aimed the gun at the man.

He was sitting, reading, and he turned his head. The panic in the eyes, and he put his hands up quickly. 

“Where are the bomb plans?!” You aimed it, aware the safety was on.

He looked to the sides of his ship. “W-What bomb plans?! I didn’t even know there were-” He started in a panic.

You lowered your gun, and looked around the area. “Where’s your Co-Captain.”

He looked around. “I dunno missy.. But please, don’t take my ship! Or hurt the passengers! I’ve worked hard to start this business from the ground an-”

You stopped him, putting a finger up.

No way you were gonna let Archer be right about this tragic backstory yacht man. 

“Yeah, never mind. If you find your Co-Captain, apprehend him. He’s planning a bomb,” you left the quarters, the last thing you saw was his shocked face.

That took about 6 minutes, you had 24 left before the moron woke up.

You made your way back to the hallway where you last saw him. Ok kill him, and get the plans. Easy, peasy.

Humming your way down the hallway, you glanced around the corner. Turning the safety off, and peaking to see if he was there.

A tap on your shoulder, and you turned around quickly. Aiming your gun.

Co-Captain, whatever his name was.. You never got it. Was standing right there, a bit shocked to be held at gunpoint

Quickly, the moment you made eye contact, you shot him.

Straight in the chest, and once more in the forehead. He fell to the ground, and the pool of blood started spilling.

Oh shit- that easy? 

No fight or nothing…

You frowned, and looked at the dead body. You just needed the boiler bomb plans, and stepping over the corpse… you grabbed his hat. Not bloodied, you quietly slipped the gun back into your skirt.

Nice, Co-Captains hat. You slipped it onto your head with a smirk.

Walking down the halls, with a very comfy hat on, you counted down your minutes. 20 minutes, 10 left.

Going into each room like you had before, you checked each room thoroughly and quickly. 

Nope, Nope, Nope, Nope-

Opening another door, there it laid on the floor. IN THE WIDE OPEN. Where the bomb plans, and you ran a hand down your face in annoyance.

This was a joke right?

Maybe it was bait. 

You walked into the room, quietly. Expecting something. Delicately, you picked up the plans… Expecting more.

Nothing.

You rolled it up, and shoved it to the side of your attached skirt, and left. Bored, and not shocked. Honestly, expecting A LOT more. 

Maybe it’s because it’s America.

. . .

* * *

[ おまけ: Omake: Bonus / Noncanon…. Ah shit ]

“We’ll be posing as a couple on their hon-”

“Wrong episode,” Archer looked at you.

“What.”

“What-?”

\--

“At least… drink a good Capri-sun flavor. Good god.”

“What’s wrong with Strawberry Kiwi?!” You exclaimed.

He gave you a _LOOK_ , that said _‘really_?’

“Yeah you’re right, it’s the worst flavor.”

\--

Barely even five minutes later, he woke up.

NO SEDATIVE CAN HOLD STERLING ARCHER BACK.

He attempted to get out of the seat, but tripped over his margarita glass. 

Damn it, at least you knew how to make a good drink, now it had gone to waste.

\--

“YOU MADE A SEDATIVE FOR HER?!?” Malory exclaimed, looking at Krieger.

“Uh yeah. She got my musical reference, the least I can do for her,” he shrugged.

“Don’t tell me you’re fucking.”

“Ew no, she’s not my type,” he glanced at the bride, reading on the stool. 

\--

“Wait, so I just pass out? That’s what the script says?”

“YES? Is it that hard???” You yelled, getting the drink ready. 

“I mean, are you ACTUALLY sedating me?”

You paused. “No-” you lied.

\--

[ おまけ: Omake Over ]

* * *

He was pouting again. Like OPENLY this time. YOU FUCKING DRUGGED HIM, COMPLETED THE MISSION, and then dragged him off the ship and onto a helicopter.

He had his arms crossed, and leaned into the seat.

That’s a total BITCH move, he swears.

You looked at him, and gave him a deadpan expression. FINALLY, you noticed.

“Are you pouting?” You looked at him.

“Yes. Thanks for noticing,” he snapped back, watching you roll your eyes. 

“Not only did you kinda make a bomb-ass margarita-”

“Thanks.”

“You drugged me, GOT A COOL HAT, finished the mission, and dragged me away from a YACHT. I didn’t get as many drinks as I wanted, girls I wanted, or anything I wanted!”

“The hat is cool isn’t it?” Was the only thing you acknowledged, and he looked at you in a strained manner.

Finally, he looked away and continued to pout. 

He watched you continue to ignore him, which made him more upset. What kinda person do you think you are?!?

He was going to get payback somehow… SOMEHOW he swears. Dunno what for, but it’s going to happen. The helicopter ride was loud, but talking wise and quiet.

It was quick, and you both were dropped off in Manhattan around 4 pm. The time when the time of day was over. He watched you, not even dizzy from the ride… jump off with ease and make your way back into the building to report your finished work.

This- honestly pissed him off.

You drugged him?? For 30 MINUTES???

Yeah no, he was going to talk about this for awhile, it pissed him off.

Day on a scale of one to ten for him? A 2/10.

Cause the margarita added one.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been writing chapter eight and six, which- yes is out of order. But so far is the most fun to write. Archers personality is fun to write...  
> Comments and Kudos are appreciated!!


	5. Not just a Sample

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lana and Archer are sent away for a mission after your little incident, and now Cyril is hired. Fun in the work place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> been rewatching s6... But!! Saturdays will be for attempted updates now!  
> p: 1/9/2021 | h:99 | k: 7 | c: 8

* * *

It had been about… a week since your _incident number 2_ , as Malory called it.

You were now- forbidden to go on any missions alone with Archer now. Like a child being grounded. But she was _mommy dearest_ , and didn’t like seeing her son drugged.

Puh-lease. Everyone gets drugged once in their life, doesn’t always make it fun. She’s probably been drugged more than anyone in the room, damn it-

You could’ve sworn she didn’t know how he acted, because she did nothing to change it. 

So now, you’ve been working for ISIS for- 10 days.

2 waiting, 1 mission, a week of coming in and doing nothing but talking to Kreiger in the lab sometimes. Sometimes you’d talk to Lana, about life and things OUTSIDE of work. Sometimes you’d sit in the Break Room, and smuggle in your capri-suns, cause the only thing in the GODDAMN office was alcohol. 

No one ever touched your juice, you knew they were too scared to see the consequences.

You also learned that- Archer went on _every_ mission. 

It didn’t matter if it met his skill set or not. He went on EVERY mission. Sometimes with Lana, sometimes by himself. NEVER, _just_ with you. ONE TIME, you went on a mission with both of them. 

You were the fucking, get away driver.

Why’d she even hire you, if she was just going to treat you like a paper weight? You were the World's Best Assassin. Worldwide, with a capital W. Yet, all you did was sit in the breakroom and listen to gossip from Pam, sipping your Mountain Cooler.

A WEEK of nothing.

Was this payback? This _was_ payback, on Archer’s side of the problem. You should’ve known with all his pouting, and sad face.

Dummy.

Waking up this morning, you heard the beeping of your alarm, practically screaming. You hit it, harshly. 

Should you even get up? You knew that today you were just going to be sitting around, being bored. _Why’d you sign up for this job._

You COULD quit.

But then your record would be even WORSE, and you’d have to sign more paperwork, leave the few people in the office you did like talking too. Just all around too much.

Getting up reluctantly, you made your way to your closet. Grabbing a charcoal colored button up and leggings, you put it on while entering your bathroom. Slipping a white jacket over the shirt, and slipping on a white and black pair of shoes while you made breakfast.

You barely did anything in the office, what was the POINT of dressing professionally. 

Half a bagel in hand, and all your needed weaponry in your purse, you made your way down the streets of Manhattan once more. Quietly, silently, and ignoring everyone on the streets. It was far more- annoying than Venice or Tokyo.

Venice, not as many people were bumping into you on purpose to steal your wallet. If they bumped into you, they did it on accident or something. Or it was the mafia in the local area, and most of them knew you to know that bumping into you for money was a no-no.

Tokyo, it was just… You got where you wanted to more quickly. You knew each turn, and you knew each shortcut. What ways would lead you down the Yakuza, and ways that would lead you to the nice lady that gave you gyoza since you killed her husband for her once.

You miss that lady.

Going into the laundromat, walking past the owner, and scanning your card was the same as the rest of the week.

Quickly, you jumped onto the elevator. Riding up, and leaning on the side. Fiddling at your jacket, and just all around bored.

Finally, you opened the door. Entered the office, and walked past just about everyone. A Hi to Pam and Ray. Finally.

“Ms. Archer wants you in her room I think- immediately,” Cheryl told you, eating- glue. Yup glue, at her seat.

“When did she say that?” You asked.

“I dunno- maybe like 10 minutes ago. She seemed pissed.” she shrugged.

“Yeah- Thanks-” You muttered.

Right before you opened the door she finished her statement. “Mr. Archer’s in there, and so is Lana and Cy-”

You proceeded to ignore her, open the door. And yeah- Cyril _was_ there…

You walked in, closed the door, and attention was on you. Standing by her side table, you motioned for her to continue.

“Back to my insults,” Archer started. “C'mon Cyril, beat it, get outta here,” he motioned for him to go.

“This is for field agents only,” Lana added.

Malory huffed. “Which brings me to ITEM one,” she began. “Since we don’t have enough agents to run covert operations.”

“I’m RIGHT here,” you motioned to yourself.

“Not after the incident _Miss Stiff-ass_ ! You seem to not know how to behave!” You motioned to you. “But since _Incident Number 2-”_

“We don’t even know Incident number 1,” Archer added.

She ignored him. “And since Ray went and got himself PARALYZED!” She exclaimed.

Ray peeked in. “I’m so selfish aren’t I? Me. Mr. Selfish.”

 _‘More like Ms.,_ ’ Malory muttered, but Ray was already away from the door. But taking a deep breath, she sipped and quickly stated-

“- Anyway, effective immediately, I'm promoting Cyril to field agent.”

Archer choked on his drink, IMMEDIATELY. You just kinda looked at the now- well you assumed Ex-Accountant but knowing Malory he’d be doing BOTH now. 

“Well congrats Cyril, you’re taking my job.”

“I DON’T- I don’t WANT your job!” he turned back to you, visibly upset.

“What?! Do what?! Mother- Say you’re KIDDING,” he started a fake chuckle, and sipped his drink again. Lana leaned into her chair.

She got up, and started leaving. “Hey, that sounds great, best of luck.”

“Where are you going?!” Malory exclaimed.

But Lana had already left, and you looked at the pensive Cyril. Poor dude.

“Mother the chevrons are locking! And Cyril is utterly, laughably _unqualified_ to be a field agent! Some offense,” he looked at him.

He shrugged. “Some taken I guess-”

“Malory, I’m not questioning your decisions. But, I am. Right here. I am literally more qualified than everyone in this room, combined, Cyril… has 0 to no training,” you told her.

“Well, none of you were qualified when you first started,” she told you all.

You paused, and put a finger up. “I was RAISED to be an assassin, when I STARTED, I knew what I was doing.”

“Damn did you have a childhood?” Archer turned back to you.

“More of one than you.”

“And THAT'S why I hired Cyril. Because you are arrogant, and believe you can do EVERYTHING by yourself.”

“Because I insult _your_ son? I’m sure if I did it to Lana, Ray, or Cyril. You’d be fine, or if he did it to me… you’d be fine, but you're resorting to hiring Cyril,” you motioned between him and you. “No offense-”

“None taken, I know you mean well- compared to Archer,” he muttered the last bit.

“Your tone is another reason. You just have a bad attitude all around,” she smirked.

You rolled your eyes, and kept leaning on the desk. “Nice to know. When can I go back to work?”

“You went to work two days ago!”

“As a _DRIVER_ ,” you hissed.

“Well mother, in her defense. She did a good job at driving,” Archer offered. “Not good on music though….”

“I didn’t play any music-”

“Exactly why it wasn’t good.”

You were SO close to killing him, you shot him a look. He returned it with a smile and the same squinted eyes you gave him. 

“Well you've already given Cyril _some_ training!” Malory gave her son an excuse.

“Yeah, which ended with a DEAD HOOKER in my trunk.”

**_Wait, WHAT._ **

“No it didn’t!” Cyril gave a defensive response.

“It COULD’VE, if I used the wrong poison!” He shot Cyril a look.

“Malory based on this Dead Hooker, I’m just now hearing about- I don’t think you should-” You began, but she zipped you up.

“END! Of discussion. He’s HIRED."

"Right, you weren't here for the dead hooker incident..." Archer mumbled.

Ray wheeled back in, and looked back. “Since this meeting is for field agents only... you're taking me out of the field?!” He exclaimed.

“Well, unless we need someone to go undercover as a shopping cart,” she looked back at her employee. 

Reluctantly, Lana returned. Sitting in her seat, after a much needed break. She took a deep breath, and looked at her boss.

“Why am I here, if I’m not a field agent,” you responded to her.

“You are! _Just a useless one_!”

With an annoyed sigh, she clicked a button on her desk that activated the brief for today's mission. “This is _Roma¡n Calzado_ , the notorious Colombian drug lord, And hopefully an infusion of much-needed capital.”

“Since when are we bounty hunters?!” Lana asked.

“Since when are _you not,_ ” you added. “If she hired me, I assumed you guys had done killing people for money before.”

“Since the DEA's budget was killed by all those federal spending cutbacks,” Malory hissed. “And the most efficient way to decrease the lack of budget is to increase revenue. So, um Cyril, don't make me regret this decision,” she looked at her new employee.

“Sorry, too late,” Cyril responded, crossing his arms.

You rolled your eyes.

“Why are we doing such shitty missions!” Lana asked Malory.

“What do you mean?? The reward is a MILLION dollars,” Archer asked.

“Exactly, and how many drug users could be treated with that money?”

“Who cares,” Archer shrugged, trying to drop the conversation.

“REALLY??” Lana asked.

“Lana, they'd just go buy a million dollars worth of crack with it,” he told her.

You blinked, and took in his response. 

What an idiot- god…

“You don’t GIVE them the money,” You told him.

“You can’t, they’ll blow it on crack,” he clicked his tongue.

You pinched the bridge of your nose in annoyance.

10 days of bullshit, and you didn’t even know how long you were planning to stay here. A bit of muttering about his response.

“No they won't, because it'll be in the ISIS bank account, Because you're going to get _Calzado_ , dead or alive.” Malory told everyone. She sipped her drink, and listened to the silence.

“And Cyril, dress appropriately, you'll be helicoptering into the jungle.”

You snapped your fingers. “Damn, I wanted to go to the jungle.”

“Don’t act like you haven’t traveled the world.”

“I haven’t been to Oregon,” you told her. She just kinda squinted at your remark, but you just shrugged.

“Coool…” Cyril shook his head.

“Oh, and this whole thing reminds me Pam? Nine AM Friday morning, all ISIS employees will take a drug test,” she looked a bit outside the office.

Pam nodded outside the door. “Sure.”

Wait today was Thursday… Oh drug tests are easy. No need to worry. Incident was on a Wednesday… Ugh, time hurt.

“Great! Go get prepared, and leave. Now.”

You were all dismissed, and you once more… Trudged to the break room. Opening the fridge, you crouched and grabbed a pouch.

This was your life it seemed. Get yelled at, get a Capri-sun, sit and do nothing until 5. You heard the elevator leave, showing that they had all gone.

Sitting there silently, scrolling through your phone, watching the time go by. Letting your drink empty at a very slow pace.

The break room was.. REALLY quiet. Lonely too.

Morning turned into the limbo of afternoon and the morning. Around 11, the others started pouring in.

Ray came up, sitting beside you in his wheelchair.

“Swear to God, first thing Friday morning we all gotta pee in a cup,” he huffed, pulling his phone out.

Pam nodded. “Which I can't even do y'all. Cleaning out my freezer last week, found a big bag of skank….”

“From what?” Cheryl asked.

“Guess I brought it back from Jamaica, but -- But it's just a pot test, right?!”

“No dummy, all drugs,” Ray exclaimed.

“Well shit-” Pam responded. “How bout you, Ironsides? You Rollin' dirty?” She looked at Ray.

“Possibly.”

“So you’re all gonna fail it?” You asked.

“You’re? Aren’t you drinking some cracked out- Capri-sun??” Pam asked.

* * *

Archer looked to Lana. “I’m aware LANA, but it’s PAYBACK for what she did. I bet she doesn’t even care. I bet she’s drinking her Capri-suns in the breakroom, enjoying life.”

Cyril looked at the woman. “She does drink a lot of those.”

“I DON’T CARE, if she’s drinking Capri-suns. I care that she’s NOT doing her job, and now we have to work with CYRIL. She’s actually GOOD at her job. No offense," Lana exclaimed.

“All taken.”

“Okay but what flavor do you think it’s today?” Archer chuckled, cocking his gun. “My vote is… Fruit Punch.”

* * *

“My Fruit Punch is not _drugged_ Pam,” you retorted to the moral. “At a young age, my trainer told me drinking, drugs, and sex would fuck up my work style. So I don't do it.”

“And now look at you. _Stiff as hell_ ,” she pointed at you.

“Why does everyone call me stiff? I’m just professional,” you told her.

“Honey you work for ISIS, how professional can you get?” Ray added, leaning on his hand. You shrugged.

“So you’ve never done drugs.” Ray asked.

“Nope,” you responded.

“Drinking? Not even for a mission?” Pam asked.

“Nuh-uh. Every time I need to seem like I need to drink, it’s either dyed water or water, or apple juice. Apple juice passes off as whiskey to drunk people,” you concluded.

“Or SEX??” Cheryl exclaimed.

“Not really a priority, I usually kill my targets before they try anything. So nope never,” you shrugged.

They all just kinda stared at you, while you silently sipped your Fruit punch Capri-Sun. 

“You’re SO stiff,” Pam concluded, to end the silence.

You huffed, and slumped into your chair with your drink. Mumbling a low _‘whatever.’_

You finished your drink, but you didn’t want to get up. So you kinda just sat there, with an empty fruit punch in your hand.

God you could’ve been in Columbia, risking your life!! Being a bounty hunter / assassin!! It sounded so exciting… After a while of talking, Krieger walked in.

“Talking about the drug test, huh?” He asked.

“Duh,” Cheryl responded.

“Well -- What if I told you I had a way to beat any drug test in the world.”

_Well, what shit was going to go down today…_

“Are you telling us that??” Ray asked.

Krieger paused. “Yes?”

"I'm calling bullshit right now," you put a hand up.

"I'm offended you'd think that so quickly Name!" He put a hand to his chest.

"Krieger, no offense," you turned your body, putting an arm around the top of the chair. "You've done some... you've done some shit."

"It's my job to _'do some shit,'_ " he quoted you.

“It’s really not,” you responded.

“Well? What is it?!” Pam asked excitedly. 

He pulled out a box that looked like the stuff you’d find that holds tea.

There is- no way that’s actually tea. You stared at the designer box. “I call it Krieger-Kleanse.”

“Once more… Bull-crap.”

“It's an herbal tea, all-natural, and it's guaranteed to rid your body of all traces of any illicit substance,” he pulled out one of the pouches, that once more looked like a tea bag. Well it was, but still. No way it ACTUALLY was.

“Well, gimmie!!” Cheryl made grabby hands for it.

“Ah ah ahh! I literal - figuratively scoured the globe for these special herbs, at no small expense to myself,” he pulled the pouch out of her reach.

You squinted at him. Figuratively? 

“Did you use Orin, or Magenta.”

He just stared at you, and laughed. You kept your neutral expression. “Oh you’re serious? Well, I used neither- But I _did_ use Elphaba.”

Oh that- you did NOT trust that one bit now.

“Dukes. Well how much?” Ray asked.

“100 USD,” Krieger told them.

WOAH WOAH…. 100? Like- 10,000 pennies? 1,000 dimes? How- Who carries 100 dollars on them, when they live in MANHATTAN??

Quickly everyone pulled out one hundred dollars, right in front of you.

You paused to stare at the cash, and comprehended what just happened.

“Are you not going to-?” Krieger looked at you.

“I’m gonna pass it, cause I don’t do drugs. Also I don’t have the cash on hand”

"Damn, I thought your Capri-Suns were drugged out," Krieger told you.

You looked at him. Confused, and kinda shocked.

“Stiff-ass,” Pam added.

Another huff from you in response.

Soon, everyone had a hot glass of water in front of them. Placing the tea bag in, and letting it soak. It was- very apparent that the only person who knew how to make tea was Ray. He let it wait, so everyone just followed what he was doing.

When the- _‘herbs’_ were finished, everyone pulled their teabag out, dumped it, and took a hard swig of their drink.

All of them immediately started choking on their drink.

“ _What the FUCK is in this_ ,” Cheryl accused him.

“You- don’t want to know. But- You have to drink it all for it to work.”

“This shit’s disgusting,” Ray looked into the cup.

“I’m gonna be sick…” Pam, drank more of it. She downed her whole cup, and slammed it onto the table. “If I’m dead by tomorrow…”

“You won't do anything. Because you’ll be dead,” Krieger told her.

You walked up to the cup, and examined it somewhat the best you could.

Nothing fishy about the cup itself, it was- definitely going to be the _‘tea’_ he just fed them all. 

“What was in that?” You asked him.

“You once more. Don’t want to know.”

“I very much do, this looks like poison,” you looked closer into the remains of the cup.

He looked to the side, and put the tea bags into his coat pocket. Kinda ignoring the fact that you just called it poison.

You looked at him, squinting your eyes.

“This isn’t poison. _Is it?_ ” You asked him.

He put a finger to his chin.

Oh this explanation was going to be GREAT.

“Depends. The definition of poison is, _‘a substance that is capable of causing the illness or death of a living organism when introduced or absorbed.’_ and- it could cause illness. I don’t know about death-”

“So it _IS_ poison? You just used them as little guinea pigs.”

“Yeess?” He put his finger down, and hands into his coat. “For a good cause.”

You made a circular motion with your hand. “Which is?”

He didn’t respond, and you pinched the bridge of your nose in annoyance.

You could be in- You could be in Columbia!! The jungle!! The fun parts that came with your job, were now....

Reduced to office shenanigans.

After bickering with the local weirdo, for what seemed like forever, everyone was then… rushed to the bathroom. Which was weird- they all went to the girls.

Walking closer to the door, you heard a scream. Pam’s voice, just groaning in the stall.

“DAMN YOU KRIEGER.”

“NAZI CLONE BASTARD!!!”

You just turned your head to Krieger, who was ENTERING the bathroom- why was Ray in there? What???

You were beyond confused, and you swung the door open. The ‘Scientist’ was leaning on a sink, with a recorder in his hand.

Columbia. You could be there.

You asked Krieger what Ray meant about the whole Nazi thing, which he thoroughly avoided the best he could.

The best thing about him was that- he was a horrible liar. Anything you asked you could tell he was struggling to tell the truth, but he always did end with it.

Or he danced around it the best he could. Which was- annoying at times but kinda understandable considering the amount of times you’ve walked in on some of the weird shit you’ve seen in the past 7 days.

* * *

“Hey Krieger, can I-” You looked up, and immediately went back to the door.

“Oh hey yeah, don’t worry. I’m just- trying to see if Horse organs and dicks are a good conductor or fuel for my new project. Turns out! They are!” he looked up, revealing the blood covering his goggles and rest of his lab coat.

You were already out the door, ignoring the question you had.

* * *

You shivered at the memory. 

Turning back to the screaming co-workers, in the bathroom stalls. Screams, and yelling, in the poor girls bathroom.

_“The floor is lava! The floor is lava!!!”_

God- poor bastards. 

Krieger pulled the recorder to his mouth. “Clinical trial thirteen,” he began, but you turned your head to him, upset.

“Thirteen??? Krieger they’re acting like they have schizo-”

“Shh. Subjects' responses are exceeding expectations.”

You crossed your arms, holding your shoulders. “What were the expectations?”

“Honestly,” he kept the recorder on, and the circular motions of the cogs kept spinning. “Hallucinations for 10 minutes, and restroom problems. Oh, which reminds me: _call Terry_.”

You hated this goddamn office so much.

. . .

* * *

[ おまけ: Omake: Bonus / Noncanon…. I'm sure ]

“I thought your Capri-suns were drugged out,” Pam asked you.

“Oh they are. Don’t worry. I don’t think I could handle you all if they weren’t,” you sipped more. “It’s hard whiskey.”

“Whiskey can’t be hard,” Cheryl told you, like it was so obvious.

\--

“You know Lana, the fact we have to act out the rest of the episode outside of the main script, really pisses me off,” Archer looked at Lana from across the cell.

“The what,” she looked at him, like he was some idiot.

“Like jeez, did they _have_ to kill the tiger, JUST for the script.”

“ _THE WHAT???”_

_\--_

You slowly walked Malory's office, slamming your hands on the desk you looked her straight into her eyes.

Oh she has the same eyes as Archer-

“I quit.”

“What?! You can’t just-”

~ The End ~ _you never continued your job, became friends with the idiot, and lived your life as a normal, self-absorbed assassin. You died alone._

\--

“So what _is_ Incident number 1,” Archer leaned on his hand, sinking into the chair.

“Did you not read the script??” You asked him, hitting the GIANT book of paper.

“Uhm- I’m still in season 3, I’ve been putting it off. Reading ACTUAL books you know?” he responded, flipping through all the pages.

“You don’t read,” you replied. 

“ _I do_. How far are you?”

“Eh, Season 4. Things huge, but I know what incident 1 is because I skimmed it.”

“Also cause you’re the main character??? Dummy.”

“He says, not valuing his life or what’s going to happen him for his remark.”

\--

[ おまけ: Omake Over ]

* * *

You took your drug test, and passed it. You were now legally allowed to work there. Not like you had a file of existing that would stop you from doing so but- 

It’s a matter of the thing, and that you didn’t have an acid trip in the bathroom the previous day. 

You just left the idiots to- struggle to comprehend their situation. After helping Krieger input some information, you went home early. You contemplated life, and why you were even still working for ISIS.

Why WERE you working for ISIS???? Oh my god.

Maybe because-

It’s the most fun you’ve had in AGES…

“Ew emotions,” you muttered to yourself, going up the elevator.

Exiting said elevator, you walked into the entrance hall. Say hi to Pam and Ray, who looked- very tired from the acid trip. Or whatever the fuck it was, they looked traumatized. You went up to Cheryl’s desk, and leaned on it.

She wasn’t there- but sooner than not, Lana came up next to you. Equally, as tired as Pam and Ray it seemed.

You felt bad, but you also really wanted to go on the mission… dunno might’ve drugged the local alcoholic again.

“How was it?” You asked.

“Ask Mr. _Contador_ ,” she smiled. What? The _accountant-_ oh wait Cyril was-

“It was uhm. Not as fun,” he walked up to you two.

“Holy crap man, what did you do?” You cringed at his wounds, including the black eye he had. Poor dude what did he-

Archer walked up, laughing to himself. “Oh my god, what did he NOT do. He told Lana to _‘Chop Chop,’_ so she didn’t help him, and he got beat the hell up, _”_ he mocked him, assuming the previous tone.

Well, he had it coming then.

“That's on you then. Sorry dude,” you shrugged. “But besides that. First mission?”

“Good... besides the black eye,” Cyril responded, rubbing the side of his arm

“We saw a Tiger get shot,” Archer added. “Not good CYRIL.”

You gave a _‘yikes’_ to them. Cyril told you about the mission, with the same interjection from Archer each time. So you got bits and pieces of it, before you were ushered into Malory's office for them to give a recap of the whole disaster it seemed.

Everyone sat down in their respective seats, while you stood by the small table, next to all the drinks.

“So, How'd it go?” Malory asked, and that implied it went bad…

“Uhm. Fine?” Archer responded.

“Really now? I was just on call with someone who was explaining to me why ISIS won't be receiving any reward for capturing Calzado!!” She exclaimed.

“WHAT?!” Lana and Cyril exclaimed, while Archer just looked to the side.

“Because apparently there's no proof that we did,” she hissed.

“We literally handed Calzado to them!!” Lana yelled.

Malory rolled her eyes. But you turned to them. “You- You got the receipt then right?”

They blinked at your response, and Lana did a recount. “No, they - oh.”

“Yeah… Bounty 101, get a receipt for your victim.”

“This isn’t SLAVERY,” Archer added.

“It is if the body's a corpse!! Making sure you get your money is important!!” You snapped back.

“Well, shit,” the spy muttered to himself.

“So, well done,” Malory started, looking away from the group. “Because that's exactly the brand of unparalleled professional excellence that I've come to expect at ISIS!! You all are morons!”

“Malory, chill. They haven’t done bounty before, if you told them-”

“They made us lose a MILLION dollars, Name!!” She stared back at you.

“Ok yeah- that's a major loss. But give them a break, they’re not actual Bounty Hunters!”

She rolled her eyes and leaned on the door. 

“This stupid building is a tinderbox, and I will burn it to the ground….”

“Professional,” Cyril mumbled, in quotes.

“Excellence,” Malory shot back.

Archer chuckled, and sipped his drink. “Oh hey, speaking of excellent, did you hear we met a tiger?! “

Oh god no.

“Yeah ha- he uhm. Got murdered….”

You looked to the ground, and took a deep breath. Inhale…. Exhale.

“ _I see it’s come to this._ Since you are all unprofessional idiots… Name, you’re going on the next mission. Tomorrow. With the rest of us.”

You wanted to do a little victory dance RIGHT then and there, but you kept it in. 

“And I won’t just be the getaway driver?”

“No. You’ll be helping. You’ll have the dossier later today. AS FOR THE REST OF YOU!” She turned back to them.

A small _‘shit,_ ’ came from Archer.

“I expect BETTER of you tomorrow… We’re going to Canada.”

_FINALLY!!_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Limited is next! Which, I am- rather excited for despite not even starting it compared to chapters 5-7.. in which 5 and 7 are almost done.  
> Comments an Kudos are appreciated!!


	6. The Limited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A train ride to Canada!! You search for a lost ocelot, and almost die on a train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p: 1/31/2021 | h: 218 | k: 11 | c: 8 | b: 3  
> me: i'll update on saturdays  
> forensics: ?? no??

* * *

Canada… Canada… Canada!! The home of hockey, Moose, Syrup, and kind people. Theoretically- after all you were going to be catching a terrorist. 

The said job would be at 6 pm. So when you woke up, you were all excited and giddy, because: Finally! Your first job in a WEEK!! Something you could interact with!

You were so used to taking a job, like every two days- because so many people wanted other people dead. Sure they didn’t really know the consequences of wanting someone dead, but it wasn’t _your_ job to lecture. It was your job to get paid, kill said person, and leave.

Not really your fault, if the last few messages or interactions with said person and buyer lead the police to believe that said buyer killed said person. 

Now you were in espionage!! The fun stuff, of sneaking in and all that- like True Lies!!

_Does anyone even like that movie?_

You ignored it completely, and did your usual routine. Except it was Saturday- and you could technically get in your normal clothes outside of work-

But it was STILL work, nonetheless. So you got on your usual black get up, but- you were going to be on a train..

OH!! What if you did that thing where you fight on the top of the roof!? Holy crap- you’ve never done that! You’ve fought on roofs, boats, planes, inside bullet trains. But never on top of a NORMAL train…

Bucket list item!

You packed a mini bag filled with needed guns, ID, bullets, and- nothing else. Maybe a spare shirt and jacket.

Placing the bag right by your door, you flopped onto your couch. You were free until 6, which was really it. Maybe you could- look for more jobs… or get a snack! Play games in your room, or watch TV- 

So you went to get some dessert for midday, and came back home to play games a majority of the day. Not really looking for Jobs outside of ISIS, since- well, it would be a pain to type in so many passwords to get in the Black Market or Deep Dark Web.

Majority of the day flew by; getting up to stretch, making lunch, eating cheesecake and cookies, playing video games, and just all around doing nothing. 

When 4:00 pm rolled, you got up, and saved your game. Turning it off quickly, and making your way out of your apartment.

Lana _( bless her soul )_ , offered to give you a ride since you didn’t have a car yet. WHICH!! You were going to get on Sunday. So at 4:10 sharp, she picked you up outside your building, in a- rather nice looking car.

With a click of the door, you hopped into the passenger seat, and tossed your purse into the space in front of you. 

“Thank you so much Lana,” you told her, buckling your seatbelt.

“Yeah, no problem. I know you won’t shoot my car up,” she smiled, pulling the handle when you finished buckling.

“I assume, the bastard?” You asked.

“The one and only,” she sighed.

The two of you were now on your way to the train station, which would be taken to Canada- and she hired someone to drive her car back home when she arrived. So there’d be no worry of anything bad happening to it

“So- how’d you even get into the spy business?” You asked, pulling your phone out, and leaning into the nice seats.

“Malory found me- I guess rioting on the street. She pulled a gun on me, but you know- I didn’t flinch,” she explained.

“Why would you, It’s Malory,” you smirked.

“Well that, and I wasn’t just gonna back down from what I believed was right. So I didn’t move, and she hired me cause I _‘had no fear,_ ’” she quoted with one hand, still looking forward.

Wow, what a way. So simple, but understandable.

“So, training went on from there?”

“Yeah, I quit college and now I work for the dumbest company in the world,” she sighed. 

You gave a short chuckle. “Honestly? It’s better than working for the government. They do a lot of things without your permission.”

“I can imagine,” she responded. “What about you? How’d you end up- killing random people for money.”

“You sound very iffy on the _whole killing random people_ ,” you leaned on the side of the window.

“I don’t support the job section, but you seem like a good enough person,” she slightly confessed.

“Hm, yeah I get it. If it makes you feel better, I mostly assassinate corrupt politicians and abusive assholes,” you gave a bit of a scared / sympathetic laugh. “But, I joined the field when I was- maybe 6 or 7.”

“Damn, so you’ve just been doing this for your entire life? What about school?”

“My trainer made me do school while training. You’d be surprised with the amount of colleges in cahoots with the field we’re in. Hint: Syracuse.”

“Really?” Lana looked at you, seemingly shocked.

You nodded, and leaned back into the seat. Enjoying your conversation with the woman, and soon arriving at the said train station.

She parked her car, and you both exited with a bag in hand.

“The guy should be entering the train station about now. We apprehend him, drag him on the train, and we’re done,” Lana told you.

“Yeah, got it,” you nodded, slinging the bag over your shoulder. 

She left the door unlocked, and you both made your way into the train station. Turning your head, you saw the supposed person enter the car, and leave to drop it back off at her place.

Damn- you turned back around, and took in the lovely metal covered station. Lots of red and greys. Canada time, damn…

Dusting whatever might be on your clothes, and looking around the place. Lana tapped your shoulder, and motioned for your Target. Yep, he- looks Canadian. The usual red outfit, and brown hair. 

Before either of you could make it to him, Cyril stopped you both. “Oh here you guys are.”

“Yeah, the guy is right there,” Lana shoved him, going to apphread the guy.

He sighed, and you pat his back. “Yikes man.” He glanced back at you, and you both went to follow the woman

She made her way to the man and she quickly grabbed him by his arms and put it behind his back. Making your way towards her, you pulled a set of handcuffs out of your backpack pocket and handed them to her. With a click, he was now kinda under arrest.

“Lemme go! You have no jurisdiction over me! I'm a Canadian citizen!!” the man exclaimed, shaking to try and leave her grasp.

“Yeah, and we're taking you to Canada, so -” Lana responded, holding him by one arm, leaving the handcuffed man to struggle more. 

“Help! Help! Extraordinary rendition! Extraordinary rendition!” The man started yelling.

Cyril pulled out a stun gun, and clicked the needed activation buttons. 

“Light him up, newbie,” Lana looked at him. He sighed once more. “Sorry in advance.”

Shocking the man, he yelled, and limped a bit. His head shot back up, and looked at Cyril in annoyance and anger. “Owww! That hurts like, insanely bad,” he hissed.

He shrugged. “That's why I said sorry in advance,” and you chuckled.

The man proceeded to start screaming _‘extraordinary rendition’_ over and over, expecting someone to notice his screams. But- its a train station no one really cares… oh my god you really wanted to fight on top of a train now, back to that thought.

“And you have to have to stop yelling "extraordinary rendition." A, nobody cares. And B-” Lana started,

Being cut off by Malory rather- “- Be careful! You big lummox! - I swear to God, if you scuff my bags,” she yelled at a man, carrying an EXCESSIVE amount of bags.

Why did she have that many??? You guys would be exiting the train later on- 

“Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, ma'am,” the man responded.

“And I can do without the sarcasm,” Malory turned back to the guy, and shot him a look. You rolled your eyes.

“Oh, no ma'am, that wasn't-” He started, but once more the woman cut him off. “Enough! With the backchat! Ugh, Lana, maybe you can talk to him…” she muttered. Wow ok-

“Um?! So this is the infamous Kenny Bilcoe?” she walked over to the apprehended man. “You don't look like much of a terrorist.”

Yeah he looked like a syrup farmer.

“That's because I'm a freedom fighter! For a free and sovereign Nova Scotia!!”

“What do you think the people who bombed on 9/11 called themselves,” You responded, crossing your arms.

“Is that why you blew up a donut shop?” Lana responded, snarkily.

“ _Allegedly_ !” He hissed. “If you believe Canada's illegitimate, so-called ‘ _government_!’” he stated with a roll of his eyes.

“I’m pretty sure we do-” She shrugged.

“They give us syrup and cars!” Cyril added.

“God now I _want_ waffles…” You muttered.

“Which is why now we're taking you back to Ottawa,” Malory ignored all your remarks. “And once we do, hopefully the Mounties will start sending us all kinds of lucrative work!”

Lana looked back at Malory, a bit angry. Oh now, that's why they were stopping terrorism- work. Wow.

“How noble,” Lana mumbled.

“Speaking of work, can I put what I just assume is your rock collection on the stupid train?” Pam walked up, red bags in her hand.

You waved to her, and she pulled a hand up slightly as a very half-assed wave due to the bags in her hand. 

“Yes, the-” Malory began, but stopped. “Nooope! Nice try, Pam!!!” She hissed.

“What.”

“You want to get on that train so you can stowaway! Just like on the blimp!” Malory responded to her in an angry matter.

“Blimp?” You asked.

“We- don’t talk about the blimp,” Cyril returned, which resulted in a look from Lana. Oooh kay.

“The what? Okay, no biggie,” Pam dropped all the bags on the floor. “Have a nice trip,” she yelled, walking away from them all.

“I -- wait a minute-” She watched Pam walk away. “What now? Too easy. Pam's up to something…”

The train conductor yelled that the train would be boarding now, and the lot of you exchanged glances. 

“Well, I doubt she'll make it on now…” Malory stated. 

“Yeah, Ditto for Archer,” Cyril responded.

Oh forgot he existed.

“Wh-? He's not here?!” Malory Exclaimed, while the man started bringing bags onto the train in a strained manner.

“Mmmmm, Nope!” Lana responded, hands on her hips.

“Lets just go without him,” you offered.

“No, Missy, if you pull ANOTHER stunt like before, you WILL be fired.”

“I can only hope,” you shrugged, going to grab some of the red bags to help the guy.

You picked up about 4, and struggled to drag them all on. You felt like- if not all of them made it on some yelling would happen. “Thank you ma’am,” the guy told you. You nodded, and dropped them all in the room, with no remorse.

Fucks sake, it’s Malory.

“Need to get these bags on, ma'am-” The guy started.

“I heard him! George!” She exclaimed.

WOAH- What was this, the 1700’s???

“Malory! Don’t call him that!!” Lana exclaimed, looking at the woman.

“My name is actually George,” the guy responded, putting more bags on the train. “Really?” you and Lana asked simultaneously. 

“Dammit, I told Sterling six o'clock! Even Cyril is here on time!!” Malory exclaimed.

After finishing the bags with said _‘George’_ you looked back, and huffed.

There he was.

“I thought you meant six a.m,” he slurred, leaning on the frickin Terrorist.

“No, six- Sterling are you drunk?” His mother exclaimed.

He nodded, sipping his drink again. “Winnerrr!!!”

“Nice.” Cyril replied sarcastically.

“I’m still voting to leave him,” You responded.

“Of course you would stiff-ass, don’t be a bitch,” he turned his attention to you. You squinted at the fucked up attire he was in.

“Archer- You knew we were transporting a _dangerous terrorist_ to Canada! So how and why are you drunk at six o'clock?” Lana exclaimed.

“Well the how is pretty self-explanatory, and the why is because I thought we were leaving at six a. m. tomorrow. Ergo, Latin, plenty of time to sleep it off, and live off a maybe a cup of bourbon in the mornin,” he responded, trying to gain his balance. 

He failed a lot.

“Well drink some coffee, because there's a good chance Bilcoe's terrorist pals are going to attack the train at some point, and try to bust him loose.” Lana put a hand on her hip. An _‘Alleged!!’_ came from Kenny.

“Two things. I don’t mix that shit, bad for my body,” Archer ditzed. Okay, he was consistent, you’d give him that. “And TWO!! Awesome,” he laughed.

“Why is that awesome-??” You asked.

“Because, pretty much my whole life I've wanted to fight some guys on the roof of a speeding train,” he responded, pointing at the train.

GOD DAMN IT, THAT CAN’T BE TRUE. THATS FUCKING STUPID….

“Yeah me too…” You muttered, crossing your arms.

“SEE!! Doesn’t it sound really fun?!” he chuckled.

“ Well if I know my boys, you may just get your wish, big guy,” The guy responded with a smile. 

“So you are a terrorist-” Cyril smirked. 

“What n-”

“Thanks, _Freddy Foreshadowing._ God who is this? Please tell me he's a renowned chicken-and-waffle chef,” Archer huffed, sipping his drink more. “Because I am starving.”

“That does sound good-”

“RIGHT??!!”

* * *

While he waited for his Bloody Mary, he glanced back over at you. Who was having chicken and waffles without HIM.

You had ordered some, paid, and now were eating a REALLY good looking meal, while he waited for his drink. You cut a bit of your waffle off, and ate it. Same neutral expression, that made you look boring as shit.

But hey, you wanted to fight on top of a train too, he’ll give you that.

The Bloody Mary was slid in front of him, and he sipped it. Ugh- he’s had so much better.

He glanced back at the meal.

“Stop staring, it's rude,” you remarked, taking a bite of the waffle again. He blinked, and turned to the side, sipping his HORRIBLE DRINK.

Oh my god, EW. He couldn’t say it enough.

He glanced back to see you looking at him now.

“I thought it was rude,” he mocked.

You looked to the side, and took a bite of your chicken. “You were just eyeing my meal,” you responded.

“Well I’m the one that brought up Chicken and Waffles, you just decided to order it,” he told you.

“Cause I know what I want, when I want it. Besides I brought up waffles before you ever came over to ruin the atmosphere,” you responded, drinking your water.

What a bitch. 

“What?? Do you want some,” you offered an untouched chicken.

He took in the offer, and sipped his drink again, before going into a coughing fit. WHAT THE HELL, WAS THIS KETCHUP????

“Sure.”

You grabbed a napkin, and placed the chicken strip on it. Wrapping it, and offering it. 

He placed the drink down, and started eating it. Okay, HIS idea about chicken and waffles were great. Well it was only chicken but-

“You could’ve just ordered your own,” he heard you mutter.

“I mean, you offered. Free food,” he smirked, taking a bite.

While he finished, you kept eating and he kept drinking his HORRIBLE DRINK. Soon Lana walked in, and he kept his drink in his hand.

“Still drinking? Really??” She remarked, leaning on the bar. 

"Relax, Lana it's just a bloody mary. And by the way, not a great one. Mr. Vodka and Ketchup,” he yelled at the bartender.

“Bloody marys are made of Vodka?” He heard you ask.

“Duh,” he gave a light laugh.

“Archer, at any time in the next twelve hours this train could be attacked by radical Nova Scotian separatists,” Lana exclaimed, putting her hands on her hips.

“Armed with what? Pamphlets about Canada's responsible gun control laws? Ooo, I’m so scared.”

He could’ve sworn he heard you give a snicker to that, but he waved it off and listened on. “The New Scotland Front has guns, and they're not afraid to use them, so-”

“So okay! God, I'll switch to coffee, in a few hours. I’m not mixing that stuff again-” He recited, putting his HORRIBLE glass down. “Remind me to get an Irish Coffee, in like- 2 hours,” he turned to the bartender.

“NO!” She stared at him in an aggravated manner. 

“Lana, I have to taper off. Trust me, if these Noma Scojens are a real threat, you do not want me hungover,” he pointed to her.

“When are you not,” you retorted, eating more waffle.

“I’m pretty sure my blood is pure alcohol,” he responded, hand to his chin.

“Do you even still get hangovers?” Lana asked.

He shrugged. “Usually no-” He thought about it. “but I drank about two gallons of mamajuana this afternoon. I was playing dominoes with a, Dominican bike gang, or was it Mahjong…. I don't remember.

“Probably Dominican,” you sipped your drink.

“Why are _you_ having Chicken and Waffles,” Lana looked over to you.

You blinked, and took another bite. “Yummy.”

Got that right.

“Well, we need to go guard the cars. SO we need to go through them all,” Lana told you both. 

“Damn Lana, let her finish her meal first.”

You took one last bite of your waffles and chicken, and stood up. Dusting your outfit of all crumbs and dust.

“Alright, let's make Canada all happy go lucky again.”

Him and the two of you made your way through all the cars. Going past all the people, and cramming through all the thin hallways. Ugh what a pain. Especially with two people he argued with a lot, and were just going down each one like it was nothing.

All the stares bothered him, honestly.

Train car by Train car, the occasional snarky remark from the moron, a few shut ups- the group made it to the last area.

The train itself was rather nice, he had to admit. Nice atmosphere to it all, despite the fact there was a terrorist on it. Nice red colors, although he would've preferred maybe yellow or blue with the car- He glanced at the two women behind him.

Lana, who was very diligently alert. Gun in her pockets, and looking around the area for anyone that looked slightly suspicious. She looked great, he could say with confidence. 

Then there was you. Who looked- bored shitless, and mildly upset. No gun out, whatsoever. Just glancing around the area the same way Lana was. You looked nice, but not- LANA nice. Just- knowing you, it just added to the bitchy meter.

“Staring is rude,” you told him again, looking ahead at him, anamused. 

He scoffed, and turned back to the front.

Were you always a dick? Jesus.

He pushed another set of doors open, and looked around. Empty. Ok- you two continued to follow him through the cramped car. Suddenly- he took notice of the items around him.

“Lana! Real gas-lamps!!” He laughed, pointing to the lights.

“Yes, amazing,” Lana rolled her eyes.

“No seriously, Lana, Name, _REAL_ gas lamps! On a train!” He smirked, opening the next door. 

What he DID not want, was to run into his Mother and other co-workers arguing. Ugh… some days he wondered if they were being recorded for some reality TV-show, cause everytime they do something it gets fucked up.

He looked around to see Carol, Pam, Ray, Mother- ok… now where was the other Moron. He was somewhere- he just-

“Archer, I don't wanna deal with this, can we go… I dunno maybe guard the prisoner-” Lana looked at the bickering group. Ray and Pam looked up, and waved. All three of them returned it.

“Awe come on, look around- it's a fancy...Train car- Why the hell are you guys the only ones in here,” Archer looked at the idiots.

Carol looked at him. “Oh, my family owns like… half the railroad,” she motioned to the car.

“How- rich are you??” You asked, looking at her, relaxing in the bath.

“I mean- I’m a Tunt, pretty rich,” she giggled, and you just looked more confused. “Tunt… where have I heard that name,” you muttered.

“You’ve probably killed one before,” Ray told you, while you kept thinking. You simply shrugged with a nod.

“Probably-”

Suddenly, a sudden cat noise came from the next train car. Oh wait- Another roar… He glanced behind everyone.

“Oh my god, BABOU??” He exclaimed, more excited than before, eyeing the door to the next train car.

"Ugh yeah, I brought my stupid ocelot," Carol huffed.

“Aren’t those… endangered?” You squinted in her direction. “He’s never in danger, I keep him in one room ALL the time,” Carol responded.

“Isn’t that neglect also-?” you questioned.

“What's glect? I know I don’t give him any of that,” she hummed.

“OH MY GOD YOU HAVE TO MEET BABOU!” He exclaimed, grabbing your hand and dragging you to the next car. He heard you gasp at the sudden dragging, but not really protesting.

Mhmm, maybe you weren't as bitchy as he thought.

Dragging you into the next train car, he smiled looking at the average sized cat. You glanced back at the door behind you, and then at the rare animal. “So this is-?”

“Babou, Carol’s ocelot, he loves me,” he waved a hand down in motions. He walked over it slowly. “Come here-” he motioned for it.

He saw you glance back at the door once more, probably since people were talking more, but he watched you turn back with a small smile. You silently crossed your arms.

He walked over delicately to the animal, and pet it lightly. Quietly the animal leaned into his hand, and quickly his eyes lit up.

He turned around quickly. “LANA!!”

“Oh my god what,” she exclaimed from the other side.

“BABOU REMEMBERS ME!!” Archer smiled. He heard a huff, and he just ignored it and almost turned back to the animal for more attention. But your face stopped him-

He saw you struggling to keep a straight face. God were you ALWAYS like this? It was Saturday, relax a bit. They were on a train for god's sake.

“Dude, just smile. The cat’s amazing, stop being so stiff,” he told you, going back to petting the cat.

* * *

You do not know how it happened. One moment you realize that Archer was was- god there was no other way to put it. He looked damn cute petting the cat with literal stars in his eyes.

Then again it could've been the alcohol still in his system. 

But yeah, you’re admiring his love for the little thing- despite all the piss everywhere. The next thing you know the thing escaped, and you're both screaming in fear as you’re being scratched - assumingly the ocelot.

The thing leaves the train car, and now your outfits are ruined. You looked at the claw marks on your outfit, and sigh. The awkward silence, and the two of you standing in the piss filled car is enough to make you wanna snap.

“Well… You wanna pay for my outfit?” you eyed him, holding the ripped arm sleeve as an example. He scoffed, looking down at you

“Shouldn’t be that expensive, you look like you shop at goodwill,” he smirked. “Except your boots. Those look expensive-”

Ugh you take everything back, you were going to absolutely punch this bastard.

Quickly both of you ran out of the train car to find the endangered cat. Poor thing- well not that poor… you look like you just left combat camp.

The moment they left, they ran back into the group. Lana raised an eyebrow at them both, but decided not to press on it.

“Lets go, Newbie over here left the passenger alone,” Lana shot- Cyril a look.

Ah, he left his station… That’s once more on him, you’ll let Lana kill him. Ignoring the state you were both in, the four of you made your way back to the front of the train cars again. Cramming through each train car with the same stares from the same people.

This bothered you, your clothes were ruined and now a terrorist might be loose.

Quickly, you ran to into the right traincar to see if the man was still tied up, making a left glance and-

DAMN IT.

“I mean- he was here,” Cyril muttered, rubbing his arm. “He’s not here anymore though-”

“No kidding,” Lana sighed into her hand.

Archer laughed. “Aha- yeah nope!”

“Well he’s gone,” you sighed, crossing your arms. “No thanks to Cyril,” Lana hissed, and he frowned.

“ _Well_ he’s not going to jump off a train that’s moving over 80 miles per hour,” Cyril told them, and the woman nodded.

“Yeah, we’ll sweep each car looking for him,” Lana agreed, readying her gun.

“You guys do that, I’ll get a big raw steak from the kitchen,” Archer nodded with them. All of them turned their heads to him. 

“Are you talking about the lost ocelot,” you mumbled, and he looked taken aback.

“You guys aren’t?? That’s important too,” he retorted.

Ooooh, kay- deep breath. Exhale. “Alright, me and Archer will look for the ocelot, you two look for the prisoner. It’ll keep him out of your way,” you looked.

“I'm not being BABYSAT, by someone who's younger than me, also... awee looking to spend some quality time with me?” he laughed to himself, while you rolled your eyes.

“I’m looking to get this mission done,” you kept a neutral expression. He frowned. While the two of you made your separate ways, he muttered a ‘ _stiff-ass’_ under his breath, thinking you couldn’t hear it. Or maybe he knew you did, and wanted to piss you off more.

Car by car, dealing with looking for a lost cat-

So now people were staring at a set of people in ripped clothes, clicking their tongues like there were frickin bats… looking for a cat.

You two looked like absolute idiots. Checking each car. Nothing, Nothing- oh my god…. The more time you had to spend with him, you were going to hurt him.

“Here… come on kitty!!” he muttered, looking around.

“Come on honey!!” you baby voiced. “Babouu!” He turned his head to you and snickered, and you returned with a deadpan expression. “ _What_?” you hissed.

“Nothing, just- he doesn’t even know you, why do you think babying him is ok?” he smiled, and you just didn’t respond.

“I dunno, I wanna get this over with. Actually DO the mission, and not try and find some maybe endangered animal that shouldn’t even be a pet,” you remarked.

Archer rolled his eyes, and you two continued to look like idiots looking for some cat. Clapping hands, clicking tongues, and probably weirding out every passenger in this god forsaken train.

What happened to that excitement of fighting on top of a train? Oh right, you were petty and refused to have the same dreams as this dumbass.

“Here kitty kitty kitty,” you both turned into another room.

There was that guy that was taking in most of Malory's bags. Archer cleared his throat and walked up to the man. “Excuse me, is there an ocelot in there?” He asked.

The man squinted in you two’s direction. “What're you two doing? Besides making a mess all over my train?”

You glanced back at the steak that he was dragging around.

Right he had that- you hadn’t noticed.

“Looking for a terrorist and an ocelot,” He responded, glancing at the meat as well and sighing. “Not- necessarily in that order though.”

“Okay that's it! We're stopping,” The man said in a rather upset manner, going towards a phone at the train's end. Both of you quickly exchanged glances.

He picked up the phone, and started speaking but quickly you ran up beside him and grabbed it. Archer followed behind. “He's gotta keep the train at top speed so they can't get off. So tell him to keep it floored,” He hissed in the man's direction.

You slammed it on the receiver, and looked at the man. “I will do no such thing!”

With a sigh, and shake of your hand- “Back up,” you told Archer, and he did so, mildly confused.

Before the train owner could say anything, you grabbed him by the neck and squeezed in the area below the hairline as well as an area in the arm.

Quickly, he fell to the floor and you shook your hands off. You turned to the man you were looking through train cars with and he looked- kinda amazed.

“So you can do THE thing that people do OUTSIDE of movies? Oh my god, WHAT!?” he exclaimed, placing the meat on the counter. He pulled his gun out of his pocket and looked at the guy on the floor.

“I was just gonna hold him gunpoint and tell him to make the train go faster,” he chuckled.

You paused. Shit maybe you hadn’t thought rationally about this. You glanced back at the poor dude, and then at the phone. “That probably would’ve been a better idea-” you admitted, grabbing the phone. “Uhh- can you make a good impression of him,” you asked, typing in the first three numbers to the driver's car.

“Uhh, no that’d be racist,” he crossed his arms.

“It’s only racist if you SAY it’s racist dumbass, you doing an impression of him to make the train go faster isn’t _racist_ ,” you exclaimed, clicking the next two.

“You seem oddly defensive-” he smirked, glancing over your shoulder and into the phone.

“Oh my god, back up. I’ll pretend to be an attendant,” you muttered, clicking the last needed numbers, and putting the attached phone to your ear.

The man known as _‘Frank’_ answered, and in a less pissed tone you smiled. “Hello!! Ms. Tunt says she wants the train to go faster!” 

The man muttered some things, and you hung up with a sigh. Okay, passed out man on the floor- dumb steak on the counter. Terrorists are on the loose, as is an ocelot. You were stuck with the biggest idiot in the world. All was overwhelming, silently you massage your temples.

“Okay- Leave the steak. We’ve been tracking blood a majority of you carrying it. Place George up right on the wall, he’s just passed out for a few hours,” you told him, pointing between the areas as you spoke. 

“Uhm I’m not taking orders from-”

“Archer, _fucking_ do it,” you stared him down. He blinked, and muttered a few things. Picking the train owner up, and dragging him to the corner and pulling him into the corner sitting upright.

“It’ll help with his blood flow, but he’s gonna be pissed when he wakes up. Let's go find the cat and Canadian now,” you sighed. 

“Right-” he muttered.

* * *

Cyril hated being a field agent. He thought that was apparent enough, as everyone told him what to do and HOW do it.

God he didn’t even want the job, he hated it. Sure he got more time with Lana, but lord knows she's pissed with him enough.

Going through each train car MULTIPLE times, so many times. Dealing with the annoying professionalism of them all.

Damn it he just wanted to be sitting in the office dealing with the shitty budget and payment plans!! That’s what he signed up for, that's what he was accepted more. If Malory had already hired Name, why was HE here.

He sighed, and took off his glasses. He leaned on the wall, and rubbed the space between his eyes lightly. God… this whole field agent thing also added a whole new level of stress.

Archer being in the same area as him was stressful enough, but at least you offered to take him- That gave you maybe, uhh.. Dunno 10 bonus points in his book? 

Yeah you were on his list.

Putting his glasses back on he- heard a voice. That was very familiar- okay. Could be the terrorist, could be someone he actually knew. He couldn’t make out the voice properly, but on his maybe 3rd going through the train he was sure it wasn’t Bilcoe.

Quickly, he made his way to the where he heard the noise.

Mutterings in- yeah THAT was Bilcoe. He was rambling about how shitty ISIS was- and YES! The dude was totally open now, he could get him. 

This was his chance. Do a good job, RETIRE, god damn. 

Quietly, he approached the door. He slammed it open, and quickly he was hit in the head. He fell forward, and hit his head on the toilet seat.

Yeah knocked out.

Bilcoe sighed, and adjusted his shirt sleeve. Fixing the phone on his ear, he smirked. With a click of his heel is closed the bathroom door, and locked it from the inside.

“Literally a moron,” He chuckled. “Probably too busy runnin' around shootin' black guys,” he huffed into the phone.

He switched ears to hear what the team was saying “What's the word, boys?...Fantastic! They'll never see that coming! I'll see ya at the border!”

With a click, he leaned on the bathroom door.

Sheesh.

* * *

You leaned on the bar, looking at Archer who was on his phone. Doing god knows what. Messing with his gun, with Lana looking around the room you guys were in.

You tried peeking, but decided against it.

“Starings _rude_ ,” he turned to you, with a tell-tale smirk

“I actually hate you,” you muttered, looking away from the asshat. 

“Should we really be taking a break? We’re reaching the border,” Lana exclaimed, hands on her hips. “Seriously, Archer. We need to keep looking.”

“Lana, I don’t think you’ve noticed. But we’ve checked this train MORE than 7 times. I’m starting to assume he jumped off,” Archer sighed, clicking his phone off. “Seriously, Viva la Canada seemed to backfire on him.”

“Ok but what about Babou,” you added.

“Okay that _dickhead_ , didn’t even try to get our steak. I also don’t think YOU noticed, the state our clothes are in,” Archer rolled his eyes. 

The voice over the com of the train reaching Canada was told. Telling people to ready their passports, customs, and immigration. They both leaned onto the counter, very tired.

Suddenly, something hit Lana. The expression on her face seemed to say that.

"What if- Bilcoe hired his terrorist buddies to pose as the police-"

God damn it-

“Well, then that’d suck for us,” Archer laughed, leaning on the bar. You ran a hand down your face. Good god.

Quickly, the door to the traincar you three you were in, was slammed open. Canadian Police, it looked like.. but- was it?

Ugh-

\--

You steadied yourself on the top, watching as the cool wind hit your face. Ohhh my god. You were actually on the roof of a train.

You’d do a little happy dance if it meant you wouldn’t die. You squinted in Bilcoe’s direction, and watched him try to walk forward. 

Before you could move, you heard your name be yelled. You looked to the side.

GOD DAMN IT ALL.

Quickly, you grabbed the morons hand and pulled him up onto the train, in hopes that he wouldn’t fall off as well. Can’t be fired for not saving your bosses’ son. He steadied himself as well, and opened his eyes.

“Oh my GOD, It’s like Octopussy!!” he exclaimed.

_THATS WHAT COMES TO HIS MIND????_

You took a step forward, attempting to ignore the wind. Alright. Adapt to the speed and weather conditions, get the job done. All of the dudes other terrorist buddies were incapacitated, you just needed Bilcoe and then you’d hand him over to the authorities.

If you didn’t kill him that was, this train was fast.

Before he moved, a gust of wind full of dust and dirt came flying by. You quickly covered your eyes, in hopes that not too much would get into your eyes but you heard Archer scream at the sudden attack. When you felt the dust rub off, you wiped your eyes and turned back.

“My expectations are going down the drain,” he yelled over the trains tracks.

“Ugh BOTH of you?” The terrorist rolled his eyes. “I always get the racist ones-”

You both stuttered. “WHAT??” Both of you exclaimed unanimously. “We’re not racist- well I’m not… Archer might be,” you muttered, hand on your chest.

“Yeah sure-” Bilcoe huffed, feeling his coat pockets. Only to hear another scream from Archer since he got dirt in his eyes.

“Whyyyyyyyyy-- do people do this?” Archer exclaimed, rubbing his eyes, and grabbing your shoulder to steady yourself. You saw an upcoming sign, and quickly you grabbed him by his suit and pulled him down to the base of the train.

You both took a deep breath, and you kept a grip on his jacket. Pulling him up, and eyeing the terrorist.

“You're still just _on_ the train,” the guy told you two.

“I know, right? Although, I guess sometimes there's a helicopter? Do you have a helicopter?” Archer smirked, rubbing his eyes and removing your hand from his outfit. He took a step forward, fixing his hair with a slick back of his hand. As if it’d do something with all the wind.

“Mmmmmm nope. Just a gun,” the man quickly pulled out his weapon with a smile. 

Well shit- You quickly pulled out the one in your- purse was inside. You huffed, and watched Archer still stride to the man.

“It's empty, dickhead,” he chuckled, getting into a fighting position.

“Yeah nice try, super-dickhead,” Bilcoe retorted, and tried shooting. Nothing came out, and he glanced at his weapon. “What the?”

“You fired eight rounds, ultradickhead. Am I the only person who ever keeps track of that?” Archer asked himself, before doing a quick run up and punching the guy straight in the jaw.

Before he fell off the train, he grabbed the man by the coat and kneed him straight in the gut. The man he was hitting tried punching back, but he grabbed his arm and pulled him down to the base of the train with a slam. Mutters and groans escaped the beaten down man..

“Do you keep knockout poison on you?!?” Archer yelled back at you. You blinked, and quickly ran to where he was, but quickly both of you ducked down for another metal post.

You crawled forward, and once it left you got back up, and stood next to the idiot- who was kinda a badass.

“Uhm- no.”

“THEN WHY’D YOU COME HERE IF YOUR GONNA BE USELESS!” He exclaimed, hand dragging down the side of his face.

“Archer, I can just do what I did to George on him-” you told him, grabbing the guy from behind. 

Slightly picking up, the weight was slightly too much. Adjusting the weight, the man groaned… waking up slightly. Quickly he shoved you, and you were sent backwards.

Almost falling off the train with a scream, Archer grabbed your hand and gave a loud huff. He looked back at Bilcoe on the floor of the train, holding you at the edge of the running vehicle.. While you tried fixing your position.

Checking his pockets, Bilcoe looked at Archer struggling to keep an eye on him and you. Diverted attention.

“Pull yourself UP!” He yelled.

“I’M TRYING!” You yelled back, grabbing his coat sleeve and trying to pull yourself up.

Before more could happen to the already overwhelming situation, the Mountain Police climbed up onto the top of the train. Eyeing the man struggling to pull a woman off a moving train, while a terrorist was choosing how to get the upper hand and attack them both. 

“HANDS UP!” They exclaimed, aiming their weaponry.

“I WOULD, IF I COULD!” Archer turned to them, and yelled. The wind pushed on you both, and you looked down at the moving train tracks. 

A small light illuminated from below, and you realized- there was a window. OK! Cool, you’ve broken into windows before! Ok- Deep breath. You’re a professional

“Archer, let go. I’ll try to climb through the window of this train car!” You told him, loosening your grip.

“What the actual HELL. I know you're a professional, but NEITHER of us have fought on a train like this before, Do NOT do that,” he exclaimed, not taking notice to you trying to aim closer to when the window might be.

“HANDS UP!” he looked at Bilcoe, who had surrendered with his hands up unlike the other two, for obvious reasons.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

“Archer, come on! If I die, I die. It comes with the job description!!! Let go!!” You yelled back.

He looked back at the mountain men, and sighed with his eyes closed. 

He let go, and adjusted his position on the train to going backwards. He didn’t know if you had made it or not- but no scream or sudden thump. There was that pro-

The sudden shattering of glass relieved him slightly.

He looked at the police, and put his hands up with a sigh. You owed him-

...

* * *

[ おまけ: Omake: Bonus / Noncanon…. Oh! steak]

You jumped onto the roof of the train, keeping your balance. With a smirk, you looked at the man, adjusting your position

“I SUGGEST DUCKING-” You heard Lana yell from outside.

You glanced down at her. “What-”

Quickly the tunnel the train went into hit you and sent you off the train and onto the metal railroads.

\--

“ARCHER, YOU NEED TO LET GO!”

“Ok.”

“WAIT IM NOT REA-”

He let go, and a sudden scream and thump was heard. Everyone on top of the train paused. 

Yikes.

\--

You both looked at Bilcoe peeking out of the bathroom. You hit Archer's arm, and quietly made your way to it. Quickly, you tried attacking, but you were both stunned and thrown into the small area of the bathroom. 

With Bilcoe locking the door from the outside, and you both huffed at the cramped area.

“Aren’t you the world's best assassin, couldn’t you beat the shit outta him?!” Archer exclaimed, moving his hands the best he could. He paused.

“God stop talking, you smell like a Bloody mary,” you muttered, shifting slightly. 

\--

“I don’t think it’s fair ya know? You get the chicken and waffles, I just get the chicken and it’s- all just unfair,” Archer muttered.

You chewed on the waffle. Seeing him examine the script in hand.

“Just order your own-”

“Then I can’t be petty, _no_ ,” he sassed.

\--

You pulled the muscles in the man's neck, and he just stood there. “What are you doing,” George looked at you in a rather pissed manner.

With a blink you looked back at Archer. “I thought it’d work, sorry, I’ve seen too many movies,” you sighed. Getting in a fighting position you frowned. “I apologize in advance, I didn’t wanna be violent.”

George didn’t look amused. “Whatever do you-”

You raised a leg, and kicked him straight in the face, before punching him in the chest 3 times. He collapsed onto the floor, and you fixed your position.

“Holy shit you killed him.”

\--

You opened your phone. You had quit a day ago, and on the news-

_Train going to Canada crashed and almost blew up._

Ah, that sounded like those idiots….

\--

[ おまけ: Omake Over ]

* * *

Quietly, you shook under the blanket. Dumb fricken- canada… You were freezing. You glanced over at Archer, who was in the same trunk of a car- rather he was in cuffs and you weren't. Babou sat between the two of you, and you continued to shiver.

He had been charged with- a good portion of things you had participated in. You partially felt bad, but they couldn’t arrest you if they didn’t have files or proof.

Which they did not have! So- win win for the Jack in the Box.

Archer shivered under the blanket, and pulled his legs up.

“You fucking owe me for the attempted murder on a black guy charge I have,” he turned to with an upset look.

“I’ll pay for your bail,” you told him, still looking forward and cuddling up in your blanket separate to his.

“I promise, It’s only fair.”

He paused, and looked at Babou. Muttering about calling him a _bitch_ and then huddling up more in the trunk of the police car. 

“Thanks,” you heard him mutter somewhat sarcastically to himself, yet it had a hint of genuinity. You gave a slight smile, and put your hand on top of Babou.

The cat leaned into your touch, and the warmth seemed to help both of you. While Malory and Lana discussed with the police, the three of you sat silently in the car. Trying to keep warm, and waiting.

God today had been a day… hadn't it? You pulled your phone out of your pocket and looked at the time.

12 am. You sighed, and looked at Archer glance at the device. You didn’t say anything, but he turned back to his pouting self all curled up in his blanket. You looked up to see Lana. You waved in her direction with a smile, and she returned it.

Sure ISIS was full of a bunch of idiots but-

Well now that you worked for them, you were actually putting things off your bucket list. Like fighting on top of a train! Check!

Plus you were getting a bunch of friends. Like Lana, Cyril, and Krieger. Well- you guess Krieger he just...

Yeah...

You took a deep breath, and leaned on the metal of the car. You were tired, you really were. The adrenaline now just calmed down, and you slowly… drifted off to sleep.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a delay! The next chapter is almost done since its kinda prewritten, so!! also if you think this is long, wait till you see los scandelos chapter  
> Comments and Kudos are appreciated!! Thank you so much for the support!


	7. This isn't a birthday gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few realizations come into place, Stereotypes are thrown around, and wow that's- the actual Yukaza. Nice to meet you again!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p: 2/6/2021 | h: 267 | k: 15 | c: 10 | b: 3  
> i ♥️despise♥️ malory. sowwy also.. 9,800+ words.. god..

* * *

Stretching by the front door of your apartment you took a look at the mirror in front of the table by the door. Tuesday, a nice, average day. Usually reserved for takoyaki or nights in a bakery near Venezia… Oh how you missed Italy.

But no, today was a regular work day. You had your car now, which you had to admit… You treated yourself since you were dealing with Archer and company's bullshit everyday.

Except Lana, Lana was fine!

So parked right in the apartment parking lot, was a ‘ _Tango red metallic Mazda.’_ Which, thank god for open roofs in the summer. But also a pull up, which you appreciated just as much.

You weren’t one for cars, or to know a lot about them- and if you did know things it was for jobs or work. Most of your days were running, walking, trains, occasional taxi. Maybe a helicopter.

But you frickin KNEW, this was a good buy. Despite the- not very large hole in your bank account, but still somewhat minor. It was kinda like a moth bite- maybe a pinprick...

What was your savings account like anyway? You usually just bought stuff and went _‘eh, i’ll check it later_ ’ but then proceeded to earn two hundred thousand plus for a kill.

Back to the task at hand-

You adjusted your top, and tied the red bow under the collar. A quick steal of your bag, and you locked the door behind you.

Tapping down the apartment complex stairs, you opened the door and took a good look at your car. Nice. Nice. No one stole it, lucky for you. 

Finally getting into your car, and driving the short time to the building you enjoyed the ride. Letting your music play, and parking on the left side of the cleaners.

A click of your car, and you made your way into the building. Waving to Popeye, and scanning your keycard. Still nicely laminated, kinda bent though now…

The elevator opened, and quickly behind you, you heard a quiet yell.

Turning to the voice, you saw Cyril running up. You smiled, and stepped in, holding it open. He hopped it, and you removed your hand so the elevator could close.

“Thanks,” he looked at you.

Putting your card into your skirt pocket, you looked at him with a small smile and nodded. “Of course, you’re not an asshole like some people.”

He fixed his glasses, and looked away with a bit of muttering. You turned back to the machinery doors, and popped your shoulder during the wait. When it opened, you were greeted by the usual. Ray waves hi, you walk in fully with Cyril at your side. Wave to Lana.

God too good to be true, you saw Malory walk up with a cup in hand. Talking with Cyril and Krieger about- god once more only knows what. Some mutterings about a car- who cared.

You pulled a palm up to start counting the countdown till HE finally walked in. 

“What are you doing,” Lana asked, leaning on the counter.

“Oh just wait. YEARS of training,” you responded, 5 out of 10.

“Which iss?” Ray asked too. Cheryl and Pam came by, holding a set of files. Throwing them on the counter you guys were leaning on. 

“Four, Three, Two, One-” you finished, putting the last fingers down.

The elevator door opened, revealing the bastard in check.

He smiled, and walked up to Pam and Cheryl who was messing with the papers in the files. “Ahem. So, what're you ladies up to?” He smirked more.

“Cleaning out the stupid file room,” Cheryl returned, unamused.

“Oh yeah? Any _particular reason_?” he smiled, leaning on his elbow which was now on the counter. He looked- excessively happy.

More than usual- 

“It's full of shit. No one cleans in there,” Pam looked at him, equally unamused as Cheryl.

“Speaking of, what's with the attitude Archer?” Lana asked, looking at him, while scrolling through her phone.

“Cause I- I don't like... surprises?” He hesitated, excited mood kinda going down the drain.

God, there was something wrong with him- he had… something going on about him.

“Or doing your share of work apparently,” Cyril snarked.

“NONE OF YOU are working besides these two-” Archer exclaimed, motioning.

Malory, left her conversation with Krieger and glanced at her son. “You'd better start, because a lot of this junk is yours. Now get to work.” She went back to her conversation like it was nothing, now leaning on Ray’s wheelchair.

He looked unamused, while Archer looked like he was going to just- hit his own mother.

“Are you serious? On my... my..?!” He made small hand motions, before making a large exhale and running a hand through his hair. “Even my own mother-”

“Your what?” Malory looked as unamused as everyone else in the room.

He gave a loud huff and crossed his arms. “My never mind! Because there's nothing special about today whatsoever, _Mother_!”

OH- OH IT MADE SENSE NOW. 

You blinked, and processed what just happened.

Malory perked up after he finished his sentence. “Oh, I wouldn't say that!”

Archer's mood did another 180, as he grew a bit happier. “Wait really-?”

Very quickly, the fire alarm went off before he could finish. You covered your ears at the loud noise, and bent a bit to the sudden shock. 

“Yes, it's the quarterly fire drill. Let's go, people! Get the lead out!!” Malory started WALKING to the elevator. 

Everyone started making their way to the Elevator to follow- and that's when you grew a bit suspicious. You USE the stairs for emergencies. You glanced at archer picking up Ray out of his wheelchair since NO one else was-

“Ferris Bueller you're my heeero…” Ray mocked.

You snickered, and held the elevator open. Oh my god he did look like Ferris Bueller but older.

“ _Shut up_. Hang on, does nobody seriously know what today is?!”

Lana clicked the Elevator door, and the SLOW ride down despite the fact it was a drill was bothering you.

Anyway, you were still processing what you had realized, and by the time you all landed into the laundromat again.

“I never remember it taking so long,” Malory muttered, walking outside.

You followed, and quickly a black Dodge pulled up. You blinked- and finally it clicked.

Archer followed suit, Ray still in his arms. “Well maybe that's because you never remember _anything_! So --” He made eye contact with the car, and gave a small gasp.”Oh my God…”

Loudly, EVERYONE but you exclaimed, “SURPRISE!!!”

WH- THEY LEFT YOU OUT ON THE…

IT WAS HIS BIRTHDAY???

“I -- is that -- what -- Mother...?” He stuttered, walking up the vehicle with.

“Happy birthday, dear,” She smiled. He made a small little crying noise, and dropped Ray who screamed.

Quickly, you went over to him, and sat him up. “No one told me it was his birthday-” you muttered, and Ray rolled his eyes.

“That’s cause you might’ve ruined it,” He returned.

“Wh! No I wouldn’t- birthdays are for everyone, even if you hate the person…” You responded, while Archer went up to the car and started caressing it. Muttering nothing to it.

“Sure hun.”

“I can feel it. I can feel your power,” he smiled, rubbing the top of it. “What's that? You want me inside you?”

Alright, he ruined it. He doesn’t deserve anything.

“Sterling,” Malory deadpanned, while he continued.

“You know my name?” He gasped, rubbing it more.

You had 5 dollars on the table he’d fuck his car if it was a transformer.

“STERLING!” She exclaimed, gripping her drink. He looked away. “Hm- oh. What.”

“I believe a _‘thank you’_ is in order,” she looked at him, with an upset expression.

He processed what she said. “God yes. Yes, ok. _Thank you_ mother.

“And not just - well, mostly me, of course, but Dr. Krieger helped too,” Malory crossed her arms, while Krieger walked up with a button in his hand.

Ah that, explained their previous conversation.

“Well, only if by ‘ _helped_ ’ you mean…” He clicked the button, and the Dodge started up. “Oversaw the design of the world's most insanely _kickass_ SPY car,” He smirked.

“Oh my god it’s a SPY car?!” He exclaimed, going around to examine it more. Coming to the hood, and rubbing it.

“Lana?” Krieger smiled, while Lana quickly pulled out her guns. Archer blinked, and understood what was going on. “LANA- NO-”

Very quickly, she shot it 5 times. All of the bullets bouncing off, and not even denting the car. You ducked yourself and Ray, and the sudden scream of- yup Brett getting shot.

Poor dude.

You weren’t going to help him but...

“Holy shit!” Archer smiled, at his NOT dented car.

“Yeah, I'm like a magnet,” Brett responded, holding his wound. “Shut up.” Archer shot back, and jumped into the car.

He relaxed into the seat, and smiled more. You stood up, keeping Ray to lean on your leg. “What else can it do!” He asked excitedly.

God a literal man child.

“Press that red button?” Krieger said hesitantly.

“I- wait, is it gonna kill everybody?”

You quickly shot Krieger a look, and he turned away with the button in his pocket. Ignoring your stares. “Uhmm, press the blue button?”

Suddenly, once he clicked it the car started speaking. He gasped again. “Welcome, Mr. Archer…” a feminine voice said.

“OH MY GOD. It DOES know my name!”

“To the Dodge Challenger Special Agent Edition, brought to you by Dodge,” the voice seductively continued.

Wait was- this a sponsor- What's with the voice-?!

“Thanks Dodge!” Archer responded while it continued.

“Featuring a 440 V8 engine, six speed manual transmission, and a top speed of 185. Heavy-duty suspension. Run Flat tires. Bulletproof body panels and windows. Twin thirty-cal machine guns mounted in the front... anti pursuit countermeasures in the rear. The interior boasts mil-spec GPS, satellite communications, hi-fi stereo, rich Corinthian leather…”

Archer touched the Leather, and muttered “Corinth is famous for its leather!”

You motioned for Lana to help Ray, and moving your leg, she picked him up herself. Good god, not even you could do that… Walking up to the window you glanced inside. Leaning on the window by your elbows.

“And of course…” the voice continued, and the passenger side box opened. He practically SQUEALED. Revealing a- cheap looking set of alcohol glasses.

“The in-dash bar is to be stocked with non-alcoholic beverages only. Dodge cannot stress this enough. Never ever _ever_ drink and drive.” 

Well that rule was going to be broken, you knew that.

OH THAT WAS APPLE JUICE TOO!

He picked up one of the cups, and examined the glass. “This is- the cheap shit.” He muttered, before sipping it. He went into a coughing fit, and offered the glass. “It’s apple juice-”

You grabbed the cup. Sipping it, and sighing into the taste. Fuck what he said, it was great, the genuine kind too.

“Well, you seem to like that. _NOW_ will you stay a night with me?” Archer smirked, leaning on the dashboard.

You put a finger up, and continued to chug the apple juice. Downing it all, you put the- really bad looking cup on the box it came from. “No. But I will admit it’s a nice car.”

He sighed, and leaned into the leather. “Fair-Fair.”

“Now Sterling, listen to me,” Malory came up behind you looking inside.

He rubbed the roof of it with a smile. “It's like seeing the face of God…”

You heard Malory huff. “STERLING!” He turned his head. “ _What_.”

“This car cost me a lot of money, so you have to take proper care of it,” She told him. He just nodded vigorously. “I will. I prom- Yeah.” He didn’t continue.

“And if you crash it -” “I won’t!!” “Or God forbid, if you get it stolen-” She huffed.

He became more giddy. “I won’t!!”

Could’ve sworn he was a kid.

“Mother I promise, I'll take the best care of it, of anything _ever_.” Archer grabbed the wheel and looked forward.

“You'd better.”

Pam clasped her hands together. “Well c'mon! Give your mom a hug!” 

They both paused. “Oh, no, I don't think that's really -”

Archer looked to the side. “Possible. At all.”

A bit offended Malory looked at her son. “Why not.”

He looked slightly uncomfortable. “Uhm-”

Lana rolled her eyes and fixed Ray’s position in her arms. “He probably has an erection.”

You left the window view the moment she said that, and he let out a heavy sigh. With a click, he slammed the bar in his car closed. Once more he had his hands on the wheels. “Sorry, it's this Corinthian leather. In my new Dodge CHALLENGER!” He moved it forward, and hit the gas quickly.

The tire marks, and the sudden wind hit your face and all of you watched as he drove off. Leaving the group of you to watch him take a sharp turn.

You- did anyone else get him a gift besides the car??

You looked around to see everyone discussing, and getting ready to head back inside. You took a moment to weigh out your options. Fixing your top, you grabbed your car keys.

“Hey, I forgot something at home, I’ll be back at work in like an hour or two-” you told Malory, clicking the unlock along with your lie.

“What could you possibly forget that takes an hour or _TWO_ ,” she hissed.

You paused, looking at your Mazda that was peeking around the corner. “Uhm-- my home is 30 mins away?”

She didn’t believe that, and neither did you. 

Ignoring it, you quickly trotted over to your car and hopped into the driver seat. Clicking the car keys in, and driving in the opposite direction the moron had. 

Driving past Malory, who was shooting you a look.

By the time you were out of their range, you took a time to think- where the FUCK were you going, and what were you going to get him?!?

Then you did a double take on- the fact you were even getting him anything in general.

Alright- what would Sterling Archer want as a gift…

An idea hit you, going back to when you were examining the car. A quick google to places that did what you need in Manhattan-

Just about 15 minutes away!

What a- kinda win. You continued to have a mini crisis about getting him a gift. While driving you received a message from Ray.

R - [ the hell did you go?! ]

You put one hand on the wheel, and held your phone steadily. Ew, texting while driving. 

[ getting a gift for the moron, its his birthday ]

R - [ i KNOW its his birthday. WHY are you getting him a gift ]

[ cause i’m a nice person ☆ ]

R - [ says the serial killer that gets paid, keep tellin yourself that ]

[ shouldn’t you be... i dunno. be -disabled- and on the floor or in Lanas arms?? ]

R - [ no seriously. Why are you getting him a gift?! ]

You shut your phone off, and put it on the side of the gear shift. Whatever, he didn't need to question your choices for you.

\--

You looked closely at the glass you had just bought. You shouldn’t INDULGE him… but it _was_ his birthday. People deserve to celebrate. Examining the handiwork you smiled, and looked up at the glass carver.

“Thank you so much ma’am,” you told her.

“No problem Missy, I’m sure your friend’s gon’ love it!” She gave you a thumbs up, before turning around to organize her work. 

Friend?

Ugh, god no. Lana and Krieger met more of the requirements for friendship.

You returned the glass to the box, and set it back down in front of her. 

“Could I get some wrapping with this too?” 

Turning back around she nodded. “Can do! Any preference?”

You paused. What would- be a nice gift for Sterling Ar… ah!

“Anything Silver or Gold?”

“Course!” She nodded, and left with the box in hand. 

You leaned ever so lightly on the counter, honestly glad you decided to do this. He could take this as an apology from ‘ _The Incident 2’_! Quietly you waited, and hummed in the shop.

She returned with a box, now with a base of silver and gold stars. Now, it looked nice. You mean- the cups looked nice already, as did the pitcher. But still. It added more flare.

She returned the box, you paid for the wrapping, and made your way out of the shop. Right in doing so, a car sped right past you, you almost dropped your box at the sudden gust of wind. Watching the car turn the corner, you adjusted your position on holding said box.

You muttered an, _‘I hate NY,’_ and found your way to your car. Putting it in the passenger seat, you started going back to the office.

On the way back, your phone went off once more. Picking it up while not looking at the contact, you answered. Assuming it was a client or Ray- maybe even Malory calling you back from the 2 hours you were gone.

“Jack in the Box, what do you need,” You replied, leaning on your shoulder to keep the phone in place.

“Holy shit you answer the phone like that?” A familiar voice came. You quickly removed it to see- Lana’s contact?? Why the fuck was-

“Hey, I need your help,” Archer continued on. “So like- how fast can you come to the office, I don’t even know why you LEFT in the first place, mothers super pissed about it.”

“I needed to-” you looked at the gift. “ _Get something_. But I’m actually on the way to the office right now, 2 minutes.”

“Righttttt,” he gave an elongated reply. “Well- meet me and the rest in the Laundromat area, or the downstairs… I don’t have any idea of what to call that area.”

“Yeah- alright. One last thing.”

“Shoot.”

“Why are you using Lana’s phone.”

“I don’t have your number? _Duh_ , ok now- bye-” he ended the call before you could respond.

He didn’t have your number? Since when- you started playing out the last 15 days throughout your head. Most of it was avoiding his ass, maybe some talking, and hating him. Missions and junk.

Right- started on a tuesday- incident wednesday. Like a week- Drug incident on a thursday and friday, and train on a saturday, Car on a sunday- now it was tuesday…

Ugh, time was confusing, just get rid of it.

But god, even _Cyril_ had your number- he didn’t-

You went to your contacts, and went to the A’s. You felt bad, you were texting and driving-

Malory **A** rcher, Mary **A** nne, **A** natasia, Gaku **A** sano, M. **A** rakiri, nope. Nope. Nope- huh.

Okay no Archer, or Sterling Archer. You decided to check if maybe you just put in Sterling. Scrolling to the S section, you started browsing. 

Tomo **S** ugino, M. **S** alvato, D. **S** alentino, **S** ugaya, Nope. Nope, nope. He- wasn’t in your phone??? That was odd, but not really surprising. 

You should give him your number, it might help with the shitty work ethic you both have. Wait no that sounded like a bad idea you didn’t know what kinda texter or caller he was. Buttt, what if he was ever in danger? And you needed to save his ass, and you’d be able to RUB IT IN HIS FACE-

You shook your head.

 _Phrasing_. 

You’d be able to save him if he needed help, and then you’d be able to brag to him about your actions.

Totally reasonable. You needed to set a reminder to give your number to him. But- later.

You took another turn around the corner, and saw the building. A quick pull up and you glanced at the box. If everyone else was there, you’d look weird… You glanced into the lower level of your car.

There was the main gang discussing some things- Yeah no you’d wait… Besides it seemed like there was going to be an incident, and bringing your NEW car would be shitty.

Where WAS _Archer's_ car?? You looked behind you, and forward. No- black dodge or anything.

You opened your car door, and stepped out of your vehicle. A slam of the door, and you took one last glance at the gift in the car, before very quickly the door to the cleaners was slammed open.

You turned back, and saw Archer leaning partially outside with the door open, slightly panicked but still his- cocky smiling self.

“Hurry up dumbass,” he told you and you gave a small unamused look to him. You clicked your keys, and threw them into your purse. 

Deciding to take your time to walk up to him, and he took notice. He rolled his eyes, and when you made it to the door ever so slightly he grabbed you by your hand and dragged you inside the building.

 _Alright then._ Impatient much?

He quickly sat you down, next to Pam and Lana and stood in front of you.

“We’re infiltrating the Yakuza.”

You did a double take.

“ _What-_ ” you hissed.

* * *

Oooh kay, you didn’t look happy at that. Archer rubbed the back of his neck, and ran a quick hand through his hair.

“You speak Japanese right?”

“I do too-” Pam added.

“Okay, but probably not as good as her!” Archer shot back. He crossed his arms and looked at the mildly upset you, looking like you were about to sock him in the jaw.

“Yes. _I can_ ,” you stated through gritted teeth.

“I uh- I lost my car… Somehow.”

He watched you calm down, and then sigh. Rubbing your temples, and looking him dead in the eye.

“So tell me then. _Archer_. Why are we going to the Yukaza?”

“Uhhh- Pam said they might have it, since ya know. It’s a LUXURY. And I figured, you might know them or something, and since you speak Japanese better than Pam-” He continued, making motions with his hands.

“Alright a few things. Why do you think _I KNOW_ the Yakuza,” you leaned on the counter, putting your head into your hands.

“You kill- people?” he stated it like it was obvious.

“I don’t- that is… _such_ a stereotype. I’ll ignore it _for now._ But no, I don’t know that many YAKUZAS, I only know one, and they’re in a co-op with a Mafia group I work for in Italy,” you sat up, and rubbed your shoulder. The group of people around you just kinda nodded, and accepted that as a fact.

Fuckin asses-

“Number two,” you put your fingers up as a two sign. “Ask Krieger or Pam or something... “

“Krieger and Ray are keeping Malory busy and occupied,” Lana explained.

“Pam?”

Everyone gave a group of ‘ _ehs_ ’ except for Pam, who looked attacked. She put a hand to her chest, and gave a heavy sigh.

You gave a loud huff, and ran a hand down your face. “How did you even LOSE your car, I thought you loved it. You got a fucking boner,” you stared him down.

“I don’t- Good fucking god, I _didn’t_. I told Woodhouse to clean it up a bit, and I come down and it’s fucking GONE,” Archer explaining.

You looked confused at the name _W_ _oodhouse_. He blinked, and deadpanned. “He’s my servant.” The lightbulb in your head went off, and motioned for him to continue.

“So are you going to help me _maybe_ minor rampage on the Yakuza?” He asked.

You put a finger to your chin and made a fake thinking noise. “I dunno- what's the magic word?” 

“Do it or I’m telling mother you fucked my car up.”

You froze, and looked around looking for something. Sympathy or something to stop him, which he KNEW no one would give. The shocked look on your face looked like you were gonna hit him.

“Who says I have to? I could just kill Malory before you tell her,” you stared him down.

“God if you do, He’ll get a boner,” Lana muttered, leaning into her hand.

You made a disgusted face and huffed. “Jesus. I’ll help.”

“Great! It’s a win-win!”

“How??” you, Lana, and Cyril went simultaneously.

Archer paused, and crossed his arms thinking about it. “Uhm- I dunno. It’s fine, she can’t back out now though. Then she’d be a pussy.”

He watched you roll your eyes, and stand up. Dusting your outfit and looking out to your car. “So, we gonna… go to this or?”

“Oh it’s at night!” Pam added.

“And we’re street racing,” you sighed. Hands on your hips, you looked at them. “You guys down for lunch then? It’s barely one and it'll be my treat.”

Everyone did a double take at your offer.

Lana spoke up. “I don’t think that's-”

“I’M DOWN!” Pam started and Archer finished. “Yeah, same! Long as you're paying.” He watched you shrug. “It won’t be anything big. Just wendy's or something. Someone might have to sit on someone in the car- or stay behind.”

Archer smiled. “I’m sure we can figure something out-”

... 

... 

_**This is not what he meant.** _

While you drove, Lana sat up front. Then Cyril and him got the window seats, and Pam sat in the middle with Carol in her lap. Yeah no, he didn’t understand how he ended up here.

“So where should we go-” you started.

“McDonalds!” Carol started.

“Wh- Why not Wendys?” Cyril asked.

“I was gonna vote Arby's,” Archer added.

He watched you and Lana sigh.

“How about Burger king?” Lana offered.

“Of course _YOU_ would say Burger King,” Archer squinted in her direction. She returned the dirty look. “I could always kick you out of the car!”

“Damnn, she got you!” Pam laughed.

“I think you’re forgetting who’s in the middle,” Archer stared Pam down.

More and more bickering, and a very tired two in the front seats. Lana finally snapped and told them all to shut the hell up, and finally they all went quiet while you drove to the nearest Burger king.

Something he never thought he’d be doing. Honestly, he never considered- having fast food with co-workers before going to get his car back.

You look so concentrated on driving too, so uninterested- was that just… your normal face?? It was so odd- not odd, more annoying.

He offered you putting on music, but you flat out denied him. Like- not even taking in his consideration and just flat out going _‘no_.’

So the car ride was just an awkward silence since the bickering had died down, and when you finally pulled up to the drive in of a Burger king, you leaned to the back with an arm around the seat.

“What do you guys want.”

Oh my god, he hated this more than he could express.

So now parked back near the ISIS building, he had a bag in his hand eating a chicken sandwich next to his coworkers- in an… not really cramped but _fitting_ car-

“So like- how’s Venice, specifically the mafia,” Pam asked you, while you ate your chicken nuggets.

Taking a bite of the chicken, you sipped your drink. “It’s _Venezia_. First of all. Second of all,” you took another sip of your drink.

“Mafiosos and Capos are much nicer than in the movies. It’s the Don’s that are the problem,” You explained. “Like uhhh- _Goodfellas_. Guy climbs the ranks, which honestly is a toughie to do. But, no Mafiosos are actually nice to their workers and clients. Capos differentiate.”

“What about- Yakuza’s?” Cyril asked.

“Pam would know, but- I only know _one_ gang. They’re very- not understanding. You fail, you’re dead. Usually the leader is a total dick, it’s why I prefer Mafias. Plus Italian is easier to speak than Japanese.”

He watched you pause.

“I’m pretty sure I’m on the hit list on _a lot_ of Yakuzas, a lot of leaders are dead-” you muttered, taking a fry and eating it.

“Imagine being on a hit list,” Archer smirked, and took a bite of his lunch.

“You probably are, you just don’t know it. Practically everyones on a hitlist, I bet you right now if I went to the Manhattan wanted market, you’d be at the top,” you responded. 

“No balls,” Archer smiled more.

You turned around, and shot him a look. Eyeing him, and then putting your lunch on the floor in front of you. Leaning in front of Lana, and opening the compartment. A phone laid there, and you grabbed it.

A thumb passprint, it revealed a purple and black themed phone. You kicked your feet up on the headboard, and started typing in.

“Do you think Cyril would be on it?” Lana asked. He audibly gulped, and leaned on the window.

“Yup, I’m sure _you_ would be too,” you responded, typing on the device. “I!” you put a hand to your chest. “Am in the top 10 wanted list worldwide. I’m sure Archer might be in the top 20 of New York.”

“ _What an accomplishment_ , just proves you're a giant ASS,” Archer crossed his arms.

You ignored him and continued to click. Finally you came to New York, and organized it to specifically Manhattan. A quick click and you smiled.

“Third place of manhattan: Sterling Archer. 800-1.2 million, Depends on if someone brings you in alive or dead,” you smirked, showing off the phone to him.

He blinked, and took the device.

Good god the world was fucked, who’s paying 1.2 MILLION for him dead. And why hasn’t anyone attempted, that was some good cash. Hell he’d turn himself in!!

“Why don’t you take the job?” He asked, handing it to Cyril to look at it. He started clicking around, doing god knows what.

“Uhh, _cause_ . Your mom would shoot me herself, also I’m not a fan of… _turn them in alive so I can torture them deals_ ,” you quoted. “Also be careful with that Cyril, if you accept a job, I gotta do it. _DO NOT CLICK ARCHERS_ -” You hissed, glancing in the space that separated his seat from yours.

Cyril just continued to scroll, not clicking Archers item like he had intended. He came across his own. “Jeezy petes, someone wants 600,000 for me-” He showed them. “And 900,000 for Lana-”

“Eh, those are baby numbers I bet!” Pam added.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Highest amount I’ve gotten is like- 1 billion,” you explained. 

“Good GOD, what did you do with it?” Carol asked you.

“Nothing. It’s still in my bank account.”

“Dunno- might join the workforce,” Pam muttered, eating a fry.

“There are _always_ openings!” You sipped your drink, and threw your remaining trash into your bag. “Seriously, so many of my associates are dead…” you finished.

"Sucker."

" _I will take that job_ ," you turned to him unamused, holding your paper bag.

"Trash," you motioned for the paper bag. 

Quickly, everyone crumbled up their trash remains and pulled out whatever they hadn’t eaten into their laps. Throwing what was bad into the small bag.

You fixed the amount in it, and stepped out of your car. 

The silent car now that you had walked a few blocks to throw away their trash-

Well-

How amusing.

* * *

Fixing your- hat. You looked at Pam’s car. Nice it really was. So here you were, working as a crew sneaking into the street racing around 9. Which sounded fun in writing but- the pure white you were wearing was annoying to say the least.

“You look like a priest,” Cheryl snickered.

You paused, and fixed your position. “Have you ever SEEN a priest before-?”

“Uhm…”

Lana fixed her outfit. " I am not super-confident about this..." she looked at Pam, who was sitting in her car. She took a step out, and leaned on the door.

Cyril agreed with her, crossing his arms. "Join the club. And I don't even know why I'm here."

Quickly, Archer pulled himself out from under the car with grease on his white outfit. He clicked his tongue, and pointed at Figgis. "Join that club. Then shut up and act like you know what you're doing.

“I don’t know ANYTHING about cars,” he glanced down at Archer, kicking the thing back under the car.

“I meant as an agent,” he pulled himself back out, and smirked.

“Zing!” Cheryl added, and you shook your head.

“Okay Pam, who's the big cheesy-san around here?” Archer asked, pulling himself up and throwing the useless wrench to the side. 

Wow- ok… 

Pam smiled, and walked up to the rest of you guys. “That would be Mr. Moto, he's-” she paused, and suddenly you stopped.

MOTO??

Oh god, what were the actual chances. What were the ACTUAL chances, that the one Yakuza _you_ knew was here in Manhattan. 

_Stupid main-character powers-_

Had they followed you? Had- the Mafia tipped them off? You pulled the hat down on your head, and turned around in a small panic.

“What’s with you-?” Lana asked, and you just adjusted the cap again.

Pam gasped. In a high whisper she told you all, “Crapjacks, he's coming over here!”

The tell tale tap of nicely made shoes made their way to you, while you TRIED so hard not to turn around and shoot someone right now.

But still, you pulled your gun out of your side pocket…

“So, _shiro kabocha_ , you are back,” Moto told her.

Wh… White pumpkin-? Had they- oh oh, oh you were gonna- You were gonna shoot someone-

“ _Hai_ , Moto-san. And again, just... really sorry about your nephew-” Pam frowned, bowing ever so slightly.

Moto scoffed. “He knew the risk. But I do not know these people!” he motioned to everyone in front of him. You didn’t turn around-

“Sorry hi, I'm Randy, crew leader, and-” Archer started- and that was his first mistake. “Why does this underling speak to me?”

Welp, he was going to get hit. Archer scoffed. “U-Underling?!”

“Ar -- Randy, don't-” Pam asked, raising her hands to stop him.

“Listen here, Moto! I-” He started, but very quickly, Moto’s lackeys punched him in the guy and- area. Yup private _area_ … Archer fell to the ground groaning, and holding his stomach.

“What a fool-” Moto muttered. “What about this one. Why do they not face me with respect,” a hand was put on your shoulder, and very quickly, the gun that you were gripping was put to Moto’s forehead.

He looked at you, and did a double take.

“J-Jack-!” He exclaimed, backing up quite a bit, with his lackeys still beside him. 

Everyone looked at you, seemingly in shock instead Archer. Who was just dying but still had the gall to say _‘CALLED IT’_ from the floor. You kicked his back, and put the gun slightly down to the side.

“What are you doing in New york,” The man asked, putting his hands behind his back.

“Job,” you replied, removing the safety.

“With these fools?” Moto scoffed.

Pam gave a quick _‘HEY_ !’ and you shrugged. “I should be asking why you’re here. _Noze_ had messaged me about someone defecting,” you held it tighter.

“Noze?” Cyril asked Lana, and she shrugged. Struggling, Archer got off the floor and leaned on the car.

“I thought it might’ve been you,” Moto smirked. “Specially after Buccilati died, what a kind man he was-”

Everyone watched you pause, and take a deep breath.

“Why don’t you come back? End them, and we’ll take you,” Moto smiled, and you exhaled. Aiming your gun at Archer.

“WOAH-" He started, but very quickly- You turned back around and smirked. “Sike.”

You shot him in the right arm, and before any Lackeys could attack you: Moto stopped them.

Unamused, and upset you threw the hat off, and held the gun down again. “You don’t get to talk about Buccilati like that.”

“Why? Did I perhaps hit a nerve? I do not lie. He really was one of a kind, but he simply deserved it after his defecting-”

You quickly cocked the gun. “Do _NOT_ speak about him like that.” The group leaned on the car, almost getting ready to get in.

“Why? He was a good man-” Moto continued, taking another step.

“あなたは黙ってどうですか、あなたは彼を知りませんでした,” you hissed, holding it in the direction of his arm.

“どれほど防御的で、それがもたらしたものの何という恥も,” he responded, crossing his arms. You then aimed for the head with no hesitation. 

“Pam, _translation_ ,” Cyril looked at the woman.

“Uhmmm- something about shame,” She muttered, unlocking the door. “I DON’T KNOW, I’m super rusty! They’re talking about how defensive she is-”

“Got that right,” Archer responded, getting into the back seat, and taking the safety off his gun. Lana hit him upside the head, and crawled into the car beside him.

“Why don’t you just go back to your dumb little island,” you stated, a single sentence that reeked with poison, holding the gun with both of your hands now. 

“Where the hell is the car.”

Ah yeah, the priorities-

“What car-? _Jack in the Box_ , why don’t you come back to the- _little dumb island_ ,” Moto continued with some mockery to his voice.

“My name isn’t _Jack in the Box_ ,” you shot him quickly in the other arm, and quickly climbed onto the trunk. “PAM GO!”

Everyone now fully in the car, she hit the gas, and you held onto the edges at the sudden pressure of wind and speed. You watched Moto fall on his knee, and motion for other of his Lackeys to move to chase after you guys. 

Quickly, you climbed to the roof, and leaned your head to the passenger seat. Okay there was Cyril. You bent down, and peaked into the car.

“Do not STOP, you stop: Moto will kill us- well… you guys,” you muttered the last bit.

“Helpful…” Cyril rolled his eyes, padding himself for his gun. He found the small weapon, and looked at the safety.

"Who the hell is Buccilati," Archer asked, aiming through the window.

You looked behind to see a set of cars officially chasing you all. "A dead associate," you gave, and cocked your gun once more. Only 2 bullets used- which was fine.

When Pam did a very harsh turn, you gripped on the side, and steadied yourself. Slightly falling off, but pulling yourself back up. Not a train but- still annoying.

"WHY ARE WE EVEN DOING THIS!?" Lana yelled, pulling out her guns as well and loading them.

"Well you see-" Archer started, leaning out the window and started shooting. 

He finished, and pulled himself back in. Reloading. “When I was like- I dunno I was a kid… It was my birthday and Mother got me a _five-speed Schwinn Stingray_ bicycle,” he explained. Going out again, he started shooting.

Outside he continued. “I left it out on the curb on accident, and- someone stole it so like-” he paused, and came back. “Mother was SUPER mad- it was not a nice night…”

You paused, and threw your last round on the floor.

 _What_?!

Peeking down, you looked at him aiming through the window this time but not shooting. But Lana looked very upset. “And thats why I'd go on a suicide mission to get back my birthday car!”

Lana- still beyond pissed, but Cyril spoke up for her. “Because of a stupid bicycle?!”

“I’m pretty sure- because of Trauma,” you added.

“What part of _‘five-speed Schwinn Stingray’_ are you not getting?! That bike was AMAZING!” He explained. 

Moto leaned out of the car, and you guys took another turn and you almost fell off again. A bullet grazed your skin very quickly, and you hissed. Looking at the ass. “Are you -- and I'm being serious here, are you insane?” moto yelled from the vehicle. 

“Mmm-Maybe some mild post-traumatic stress disorder, but -” Archer muttered, shooting through the glass despite Pam’s protests.

Yup, called it.

“But he drinks a lot, so-” Lana continued, and Moto continued shooting. 

Archer smiled, and shot the window. It shattered, and he laughed. “So yeah, I think I've got a pretty good handle on it!”

“That’s anything BUT a good handle,” Cyril added.

“We don't even have your damn car! We steal drift cars! Imports only!” Moto yelled back, attempting to shoot.

“Right-hand drive, duh,” Pam added.

Archer rolled his eyes. “Okay, and why, would I believe you?”

“Why would I lie? Either way we're going to kill you!!” Moto yelled back, riding up and hitting the car. Everyone screamed, and you steadied yourself ONCE MORE on the roof. Shooting the roof of the car again.

“And if they don't, I'm going to!” Lana looked at Archer.

“WH- HOW IS THIS MY FAULT?!”

“No, because look, if this whole thing is anybody's fault, it's -- Pam! What're you doing?”

She took another sharp turn, and this time you were prepared thank god.

“Uhhh- nothing.” “Bullshit.”

“Where are you going??” Lana exclaimed, looking at her driving.

“How should I know? Can't see shit, my car's shot to shit, and I only had three shitty payments-” Pam told you guys, making another turn. 

Motos car hit you guys again, and you practically fell off this time. Barely climbing back up, and starring Pam down from above the car. “DRIVE BETTER!”

She made another turn, spun and lost the part of the Yakuza around another corner.

“Whoa! Pam, you're actually pretty bad-ass at this,” Lana added.

“Duh! Why d'ya think they call me shiro kabocha!” She smiled. “It means white shadow!!

You sighed. “It means white pumpkin-”

“WH-” She stuttered, and got some sympathetic nods and apologies from Cyril and Lana. “THAT'S IT!” She yelled, turning the car around. 

Once more you adjusted your grip. She drove in the opposite direction, towards where you guys had seen Moto last. Finding him, and driving towards him. Good god-

Yells and protests, and Archer FINALLY shot a tire. 

Pam hit the car quickly, with hers. Sending Motos’ into the ocean nearby with a giant flame that was put out once it submerged with him in tow. She did a hard spin, finally sending you off the car. A lot of screams at the last sharp turn, and you yelled in pain the moment you hit the metal.

You hit one of the crates in the area… hard, with a loud bang. Falling onto the floor, slightly limp and in a lot of pain with your gun still in your hand. You watched everyone get out of the car, and quickly before they fully left… one of the lackeys leftover cars did a full dive into hitting it.

Everyone jumped back, as the car threw themselves and Pam’s into the ocean as well. Erupting into more flames that were quickly put out.

You laid, still leaning on the metal… groaning in pain and trying to move.

“Jeezy petes-” Cyril looked at the flame, and then back at you. He quickly made his way to you, helping you sit up properly.

“Ow- Ow ow- Cyril don’t-” you started, putting a hand on his arm pushing him off slightly.

“You're - _yeah you know you’re hurt_ ,” he muttered, moving your arm and removing the gun from your hand. Sliding it away.

“No, no- my weapon-” you whispered, trying to go for it. But god damn, that metal hit your back HARD-

You slightly bent back, right back into the cool surface. 

You heard Moto resurface from the ocean. “ _Shiro kabocha_! This is not over!” He yelled, and a very angry Pam started reaching for Lana’s gun. 

“Yeah, we'll see about that. Gun, gimme,” she motioned.

Lana pulled the weapon away. “No, honey, let's just-” Pam went to Archer this time, who was running a hand through his hair. “No.”

“GIMMIE!” “NO! You’re agitated!” He shot back

“No shit I'm agitated, look at my car!” She motioned to the wreck.

Cyril fully picked you up, wrapping your arm around his shoulder and picking you up. “Yeah- thanks…” you muttered. 

He nodded, and helped you trudge back to the group. 

Archer rolled his eyes at Pam’s statement. “At least you have one! And thanks to you we wasted all night dicking around with the Yakuza, and I still don't know who stole my frickin -”

Right as you arrived with the group, the EXACT car that Sterling had gotten for his birthday, pulled up along with another one, that was orange. 

Out of the birthday car, showed Malory Archer- drink in hand and upset. Ray opened the orange ones window and looked out.

“M-Mother!!” Archer awkwardly smiled, and looked at the wreck in the water, and then at his parent.

“Sterling Malory Archer...!”

I’m sorry what. Her ego was so BIG, she middled named him- MALORY? _Oh my god, you-_ if you weren’t so broken you’d hit her. 

Archer ran a hand through his hair again, and blinked. “I, uh, what're you doing here, did you not hear my outgoing voicemail?” He smiled slightly.

“Did you not hear me tell you not to let your brand-new car get stolen?” She hissed, staring her son down. 

“Thanks a lot, blabbermouth!” He stared down Ray. He grew defensive.

“HEY! She beat it outta me-” he muttered, looking away.

“Stop it! But nooo, you didn't listen to me. And then you lied to me. And then you almost got everyone killed, and-” She continued but was cut off by Moto. “Almost nothing! I'll kill you all right now!”

Malory pulled out her gun, and shot the man's hand that was climbing up the side. “Shut up. I’m trying to parent.”

“About 30 something years too late,” you added, and she ignored your statement with a dirty look. 

She then looked at Moto. “That was for Pearl Harbor! Now where was I? Oh yes, and all because you're irresponsible!” she eyed Archer again.

“No I'm- well, not with the car…” he tried explaining, fiddling with his hand. But she continued- “Are you?!- Sterling, you left it unlocked in an unattended garage!”

Then everything came crashing down on you.

SHE- Stole the _GODDAMN_ car. Are you fucking- serious? You- practically broke your back and she STOLE IT. While Archer tried to sputter something out, Lana realized the same thing. 

“ _She stole it._ ”

“WH- M-MOTHER??!”

Malory shrugged, and sipped her drink. Ohhh, you were going to- “Well, not me personally, I -”

“Why? Would you... _do that_?” he frowned.

“To teach you a lesson! About Life! Just like with that damn bicycle when you were eight years old!” She crossed her arms.

THE BIKE- Oh my… god.

**WHAT??**

“Wh-? You stole my bike?” He looked at his car behind her.

“I came home from work, and it was just lying on the sidewalk, and I thought _‘Oh, this will teach him’_." She explained

He paused and took a few steps past her. Muttering about the bike to himself.

“Why would you do that,” you spoke up. 

“Hm? Wanna repeat that?” Malory looked at your limp body hanging onto Cyril. “Someone who’s hanging onto one of the most useless people in the office shouldn't question how I parent.” Cyril grumbled but you continued, fixing your arm around him. 

“I wouldn’t be like this if _you hadn’t_ stolen the car,” you motioned to your body. “That’s not how you TREAT a kid, you at least give the bike back to help him understand what he did wrong and to NEVER do it again.”

“Well are you a parent?”

“No bu-”

“Then I don’t wanna hear it,” she turned around.

Why she- shoving Cyril away, you took a step. But quickly the pain from your back overtook, and you fell to the floor, straight onto the concrete. She looked back at you. 

“Sterling, you drive her back to her car. Dinner is canceled tonight. Ray, be a dear and drive the rest of us home,” Malory told him, walking away from you while you struggled to get off the floor.

“Yeah sure, volunteer me for _everything_ ,” Ray rolled his eyes, and clicked his doors unlocked.

You took a deep breath, and pushed your hands up, steadying yourself. Hearing the click, and silence from everyone. The speeding that came from Ray's car.

Finally turning around, and sitting up you groaned at the pain. Alright- you just… had to get into his passenger seat or.. Call a Taxi if he had already left and you couldn’t tell… you didn't have your phone...

Walking-

Suddenly, you were picked up bridal style. A small shocked noise, you looked at the bastard.

“Let me down,” you immediately said.

“I want to get home, and you’re taking years, shut up,” Archer told you, while you tried shoving him to let you go, pushing him away with your hands.

Finally, he crouched down, and placed you into the passenger seat. He slammed the door, and you gave a long exhale.

The leather was nice… You didn’t want to buckle, but he pulled himself into the Driver seat. Seemingly as upset as you were. You buckled, and the silence began...

* * *

It was a very awkward car ride to the cleaners...You being absolutely silent in his passenger seat. Seeming like you were going to punch him any second now, and just the- slow jazz he played to not upset you with musical lyrics.

A very tense atmosphere.

Quietly, you took a deep breath and exhaled. Dusting your outfit for maybe the 5th time.

“I’m sorry if I’m a douche bag sometimes,” you stated randomly.

He turned his head to you, and used one hand to drive and one to lean on the middle console. “ _Sometimes_?”

“Yes. _Sometimes_ ,” you shot him an angry look, before taking a deep breath and another exhale. “This company just gets me put in a lot of- stupid situations. I didn’t want to fight the Yukaza today.”

“I don’t think any of us did,” he added, looking to the side. 

Another long pause.

“I’m also sorry your mothers an asshole.”

He blinked, and put both hands on the wheel. “I mean-” he chuckled. “Not really your fault-”

“I know. Just the bike story- and the whole car thing, yeah-” you muttered, leaning to look out the window.

“Yeah…”

He parked on the side of the road, and watched you step out, and rub your shoulder. Still in pain, but the sudden light up in your face showed you remember something. 

“Hey, I have something in my car, do you mind waiting inside?” You asked, rubbing still.

Archer blinked, and closed his car door. “Yeah? I need to get something I forgot from this floor anyway-”

“Great!” your personality did a 180, and he watched you trot to your car, while he entered the Cleaners. He grabbed his- hidden wallet under the coat racks, and slipped it into his pants pockets.

Very quickly, you returned with a silver and gold design box being held with both your arms- very much limping still.

Wh-

_You got him a gift?!_

“Y-You got me a gift??” He asked, practically in awe at the box in your hand.

“Yeah- No one else besides your mom got you something, and she stole it too obviously. We just fought the goddamn Yukaza. But yes- I got you something. It’s very delicate, I suggest you sit down,” you told him, squeezing the box closer to your chest.

He blinked, before a smile spread on his face. “Oh well, _well_ , **_well_ **. Miss Name, professional Stiff-ass got me a gift!! Could she be falling for my charms? FINALLY?” He teased.

“I got you a gift, cause your mother's an asshole.”

He shut up, and looked at the medium sized box in your hands. It was white, and had golden stars as the wrapping paper, topped with a golden bow. A small little sticker laid on top labeled: _‘To: Sterling Archer’_ and _‘From: Name’_

Who doesn’t put their last name? Jesus, still stiff as fuck. But the way you wrote his name looked nice, and like you put effort into its delicacy. 

He leaned over the counters of the dry cleaners, and you gave him the gift. He placed in front of him, and gave a smirk.

“Was the wrapping paper expensive or-”

“I'm _pretty_ sure it's Target wrapping paper.”

“Great,” he chuckled.

He absolutely KILLED the paper. Opening to see a cardboard box. He went into his pocket, and pulled out a switchblade. 

Opening it swiftly, he bent the cardboard back and pulled out- things covered in packing paper. GOD so much wrapping, jeez. He ripped the paper, and when he laid eyes on the gift, he barked out laughter.

Designer cups? For drinking?

“I thought you were Anti-Alcohol!” He kept laughing to himself.

“Jeez- I wanted to get you a gift that you’d use a lot. I know you drink, so I- Thought it’d be nice,” you huffed, looking to the side of the cleaners.

“No no, it’s _great_ ,” he said, laughter dying down. “You’re right, I’ll use it. I can’t promise it WON’T break, I have a uh- shitty butler. Yeah.”

Your serious demeanor, the face that barely gave a real smile… Look liked it was about to break into a hint of a smirk.

“You’re smiling!” He teased, laughing more, and opening more of the cups. Most with nice engravings of _‘S.A.’_

He looked more into the details. Some just had _Sterling_ , some just had _Archer_. A total of 6 cups too, and a pitcher. 

He looked up to you still struggling NOT to smile. But you were still looking to the side-

_‘Ohhhh, she’s expecting a thank you or something.’_

He paused, and looked at the glass again. Delicately placing them all into the box. 

“Thanks I guess,” he finished, flapping the lids of the cardboard box. He carefully picked up the glass components. 

That’s the most you’re going to get, he hopes you know that. 

But the final smile that's on your face, shows that you do.

“You’re welcome Archer. Have a nice night, and thank you for the drive...”

You turned on your heel, tired, and limped to your car. Obviously from the incident. Making your way to your car, and driving away with him to just stare at the car's gas final emitting.

He should, probably… go home too. 

...

Has-

Has anyone besides Woodhouse and his mother gotten him a gift?

He took the box delicately through the cleaners doors, and put it in his passenger seat. Going back around to go to the driver's seat.

Turning the car on, he looked at the box. Still very small scabs of the white and gold paper were on the cardboard. 

He went his usual speed, but went slow on sharp turns to avoid breaking some of it. It was a gift after all.

. . .

* * *

[ おまけ: Omake: Bonus / Noncanon…. yummy]

"Their just CUPS, it's not that sentimental-" You tried explaining.

"NO!! You are LITERALLY the first person to give me a gift that's not my mother or butler...."

You just kinda stared at him.

This explained to much.

The man child was fucking _traumatized_ , you learned today.

\--

Backing out, he looked back and once the car started he was lurched forward.

Which sent the box going forward, and the sound of shattering.

He-

He just kinda stared at the box on the floor of his car.

He’d text her that it _broke_ but- he didn’t have her number.

“Shit.”

\--

He opened the box, and picked up one of the glass cups.

With a smile, he admired it, and before he could say anything it slipped out of his hands.

You watched him struggle to catch the cup before it hit the floor.

With a smash, it shattered, and you ran a hand down your face.

“Yeah, I know don’t-” he started.

“Butterfingers,” you eyed him.

\--

He opened the box, only to reveal something else..

Your number. 

Not like your actual number, the CD album of _The Knack’s_ album _‘Get the Knack,’_ including the song ‘ _Your number or Your Name.’_

“Happy birthday!” You looked at him with an amused smile.

He blinked and looked at you, with a very confused expression.

\--

“Hold on, I have something for this,” he put a finger up.

“Wh-”

He snapped his fingers. “ABBA’s 1975 album, song number 8!” He looked at you with a smile.

You took in what he just said. 

You returned home, and looked on Spotify to see what he meant.

Album _, Arrival_ . Song number 8? _Why did it have to be me?_

You threw your phone across the room.

\--

[ おまけ: Omake Over ]

* * *

Archer leaned into his bath quietly. He was against using the hot tub right now, and he didn’t really have the energy and mental capacity for sex. Good god his mother stole a gift he enjoyed, and thanked her for and just-

Yeah no. Not today, today was a relaxing night.

He sunk more into his bath, letting the water reach just below his ears. He looked to his left, and grabbed one of his new glasses off the side of his bathtub.

“WOODHOUSE!” He yelled. Quickly, his butler walked in. 

A few mutterings, and his drink was refilled. He had chosen a cup that had _‘Sterling’_ on it only, and a nice grip for his hands.

With a quick sip, he leaned over the edge of his bath. Looking at the black rug below it, and the small table that held all his new glass.

He glanced at the bruises and cuts on his arms and body from- previous events. Like train ride incident, recent car fighting, and uhh… He thinks the drug cartel dude? Whatever, he took another sip.

The warm water soaked into his skin, and he sighed. Steam hitting the back of his neck, and soaked hair. He looked at the floor of his bathroom, and glanced at his phone.

He thought about the fact you- pointing a gun at him. Before literally going, _‘sike’_ and shooting the other leader… that you KNEW.

Archer sipped the drink again, and huffed.

After a few minutes of soaking, and washing his body… he made his way out of the bath. Stretching, and wrapping a towel around his waist. He walked up to his mirror and examined his messed up- well not messed up he was still jacked. Just more- scars and junk on him. Once more didn’t mess with how he looked-

Were you guys- ugh ew, don’t even say it Sterling.

Were you guys friends??

Brushing his teeth he leaned in, concentrating, and holding his towel up with his other hand. Enjoying the small silence of his penthouse, and overall area. The golden atmosphere of his bathroom…

He spit, and rinsed his mouth and took a final look at his face.

What wasn’t appealing about him? Why wouldn’t you sleep with him?? Why wouldn’t you sleep with anyone for that matter… He didn’t push on it cause- yeah well he might be a douchebag and _kinda_ a sexual harasser but he was no rapist or pressurer. 

Rubbing his jaw, he took a final deep breath and made his way to his bedroom. Slipping a somewhat large white button up on, and a pair of boxers.

Flopping onto his bed, he called for Woodhouse once more for his drinking set.

The glass was placed on his dresser, and he took another long sip from his previous cup he was using.

You were dumb. That was for sure. Dumb, and he hated that he was thinking about you OUTSIDE of work. Last time he did that, it was after you drugged him.

That was pure rage, this was more… confusion- on why the hell _you_ got him a gift. Not Lana, or Pam, or hell a consolation thing from Cyril.

You. The person who hated him, and would snarkily respond to everything he had to say. Criticize him for drinking, and overall anything…

He sighed, and put the glass on the counter.

Yeah _you_ were stupid.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say thank you to github for having the script and i don't have to rewatch episodes x213 in one day, wish i knew that before i had watched el contador 20 times in a day. my prime account probably hates me  
> Comments and Kudos are appreciated!!


	8. Sweets and Suits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting lost in Manhattan, only to run into the biggest douchebag of the century. He invites you to hang out and listen to HIM talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p: 2/8/2021 | h: 284 | k: 16 | c: 12 | b: 5  
> me, googling new york and manhattan streets: uhhh- new yorkkk....  
> also sike, update, this was slightly prewritten. like- 2/6th

* * *

A Saturday. A nice, and relaxing Saturday. A day to- take a break from your absolutely insane workplace. A day to get some sweets. Some sweets, some time to yourself. A day, to shut off work mode… and smile.

Oh wow, that- maybe Pam and Archer were right....

OH NO, you could NOT let Archer be right. Bastard got a gift from you, that was- enough. Bastard almost made you lose your job…

Bastard… saved you from falling off a train.

UGH, nevermind you might just sleep in. You placed your face into your pillow, and gave a loud huff. Lord.

Your alarm never went off, and when the sun started hitting it’s peak sunlight you looked at the window in your room. Squinting at the sun through the closed blinds. Really bright…

Stealing a glance at your clock real quick- 10 am. Alright, you missed breakfast. Brunch was in order. Quickly, you sat up. Hitting your blanket with your hands and allowing the sun to reflect on your body.

Throwing your feet over the bed, you stretched and looked around your apartment bedroom. Place was in need of maybe a recdorating. Everything was so- basic. Reeked of you maybe 5 years ago. 

Getting dressed, you decided on something NOT formal. Something that wasn’t a pencil skirt and leggings. No no, you were going- dress. That's right, _how scandalous_. The weather was amazing, you could tell. It was still spring, but it was slowly becoming summer so it was only fair.

You finished your needed hygiene as well as getting dressed and looked in the mirror. No bullshit today, no pain in the ass to bother you.

Closing your bathroom and bedroom door with a hum, you smiled. You had some sweets in mind. Maybe cheesecake, maybe some brownies. God there were so many options- NO! Name chill out, you gotta have an actual lunch first.

Grabbing your purse, you swung it over your shoulder and grabbed your keys.

“Arrivederci home!” You exclaimed, with a close of your door and a quick lock. Still limping from the previous incident, you made your way down the road… avoiding your car.

Walking down the road and onto the sidewalk, and enjoying the sunshine.

Yes.. this was going to be a good day. You knew it.

Walking down the bright streets of Manhattan, no one to stop you. Your first stop would be for a drink ( fruit punch. Once more, _scandalous_ ) and maybe a sandwich with chips at Mcalister's. 

Then, and only then… you would choose a sweet to explore the city with. Preferably a brownie, since they were easy to walk with! Yes, yes it was all coming together.

\--

What an absolute STEAL. You had maybe- one of the best breakfasts you’ve had in awhile, and now were enjoying your time down the- street name you didn’t know.

Whatever, you could find yourself home later, this snack wasn’t going to eat itself!!

You smiled, holding the cosmic brownie in your hand and taking a bite with your head down. Before you took another step forward, someone- taller than you ran into you.

Sending you back onto the concrete. 

A small exclamation, and you landed on the back of your hands- and now they were totally scraped in the worst way.

You huffed, putting a hand to your head and looking for your now DEAD snack.

Before you found it, a hand was offered. You looked up and in their direction., and the energy drain out of both of your faces was a very quick and obvious action.

GOD DAMN IT ALL, REALLY! This was like a curse.

“Oh,” was all he muttered, before a small cocky smile spread on his face. “Well, what a coincidence.”

Looking at his hand, you saw he had caught your snack before you fell. _The Brownie_.

“Archer,” you muttered, grabbing his hand. He pulled you up, and you dusted your outfit off with your now- scraped hands. Shit you’d have to put ointment on it- or something. 

You put a hand out, motioning for the brownie. He smiled, and put it in your hand. In which you promptly took another bite from in front of him, and held between both of your hands.

“Dainty,” Archer chuckled.

“Shut the _hell up_ , it’s my day off. Good-day,” you shot back, and strode past him in the way you were originally going. Only for a group of people to be coming the opposite way. 

Good god, you hated Manhattan. You turned back around, to see him still smiling with amusement. 

Walking the opposite way you were going, he tailed behind with no words. The snack was finished, and while trying to ignore him- you dumped the wrapper in a recycling can.

The more you walked the more he followed.

You quickly turned around after a few minutes, and shot him a look. “Why are you FOLLOWING me,” you exclaimed.

“Uhh, I’m not. I’m going to my dresser. Where the hell are you going,” he put his hands in his pockets and blinked in your direction.

You paused. Did you know where you were going? Uhm- You looked at the street name. Once more you didn’t even know where this led. 

_Lost in new york… the streets are numbered!_ Played in your head, and you read the line over and over again. OK, but- you didn’t know WHAT street led to where.

“I’m uh- on a walk-” you lied, looking at the street behind you.

“Really? You look lost,” he hummed, walking a bit closer to you. He looked at the street behind you that you were glancing at. “14th street. You sure you’re not lost? This is real close to Avenue C, and is borderline midtown.”

WHAT??? What the hell was Avenue C- 

“I- I’m not lost,” you lied once more.

“Alright,” he smirked, and took a few steps past you. He looked back. “Wanna come with? I’m just getting a new formed fit, it shouldn't take too long,” he shrugged. “Then I guess I could help you get home since you're _not_ lost. Or I could call Lana.”

Oh god, don’t call Lana. You’d look like an idiot- you were a professional! The person who was serious and deadpanned. Now you were the girl who was lost in NEW YORK. It couldn’t be that hard…

“I-” you started. Oh god, were you about to spend more time with this moron?

Ugh ew- Nope. Say no. “Fine. I will.”

YOU?? You were supposed to say NO??

He smiled. “Great. Then I suggest you follow me- unless you wanna be robbed or somethin-”

Oh that was midtown? Well you could handle yourself, you were sure. But you fixed your dress and tailed beside him in silence. 

Passing by rather- suspicious figures. Ranging between rich people with guards, to people sitting on the streets with weapons.

You frowned, passing by them. Taking the needed turns with him, and glancing into each allway you passed by. 

“Sooo, what's with the dress,” Archer broke you out of thought. “I’ve only ever seen you in black, never red or a sundress _thing_ at that.”

“It’s the weekend. I don’t have to dress professionally,” you returned, putting your hands in the pockets of the clothing.

“What about you dumbass? You only ever wear suits, aren’t those a pain in the ass to wear and put on-” you asked, looking at the streets you were passing.

“I wanna look nice, it’s basic and likeable,” he explained. 

“Not that much,” you turned to him with an unamused face.

“You hate everything _stiff-ass_ , I’ll have you know that I’ve run into plenty of women who find my suit attractive and worthy of dragging me into bed,” he smirked, motioning to his outfit.

With a roll of your eyes, you fiddled with the fabric inside of the pockets. “Sure.”

“You are so much worse than Lana,” he retorted, with an upset expression.

“Mhm, cause I haven't fucked you? Or because I won’t put up with your bullshit?” He turned the corner, and huffed at your statement. 

“I’m leaning towards the first one,” he eyed the building a few blocks down from you both. Yeah that seemed to be the building. Nice and grey like everything else.

You gave a small laugh at his response, and looked ahead to where he was looking. You felt eyes on you, and turned to him. Seeing him slightly shocked.

“What?” you asked.

“You’ve _never_ laughed before.”

You blinked, and gave him a very confused face. “What the hell, _yes I have_. Just never at work, jeez… That's so random..” you muttered the last bit.

He just looked ahead with a shrug and few grumbles.

Douchebag...

Both of you made your way into the building, with you tagging behind Archer. Closing the door so it wouldn’t slam behind you, and him entering a conversation with the guy upfront.

Felt a bit weird- not gonna lie… While he leaned on the counter you looked around. Despite what the blue and grey outside looked like, the inside was a mix of black and red. A nice feel to it.

You were snapped back to reality when someone was directing your conversation to you. Oh- whoops…

“He’s askin' your name _Stiffie_ ,” Archer leaned on his elbow, which was still on the corner. You turned to the dress attendant, ignoring the nickname.

Guy was blonde- wore a similar suit to Archer but- no tie or anything. Something looser. Maybe like a mix of Ray, Archer, and Cyril in one.

“Uhm. I’m Jack,” you told him with a smile. “I’m just here to see how this bastard deals with wearing suits everyday,” a motion to ignore the lie.

You watched Archer do a double take at the name, and decide to just- accept it. “Yeah, well Jackie's here for a show.”

“I’m here cause I’m free for today,” you shot him a look.

“Alright- Alright-” he put a hand up. “Well, lead the way Mr. Morello!” The guy gave an of course to you two.

Good god this dude's name is Morello? The guy nodded, and unlocked a door to the back. Allowing you both to enter, and you keeping a- close distance away from the stranger.

“Fake name huh?” Archer whispered to you, bending a bit to the height so you could hear. Double douchebag,

“I don’t exist in any form of records, people can’t know my name,” you whispered back, crossing your arms and holding the deltoids. 

“Yet here I am,” he smirked.

You sighed. “Yes. Yet here, and _the rest of_ ISIS is.”

He went back to his usual height, and you three made a left. Entering a large, seemingly fitting room. Lined with suits, and other fancy mens clothing. A small little circular pedestal in the middle, and a few chairs.

People in the corner working on something you couldn’t tell. Morello made his way to adjust the chairs and pull 3 up to the pedestal.

The worker motioned for Archer to stand on it, and in doing so he removed his coat. Slipping it off, only for one of the other workers to grab it. Wow, how organized.

You looked at one of the seats, and sat in it. Crossing a leg over another.

Fixing the dress, and looking around. Still the red and gold feel, but blue, grey and black suits were now lined up as a contrast. Nice, primary color use…

“So-” Archer started, turning to one of the workers and unbuttoning the top of his shirt.

You put an elbow on your knee and leaned on it. He continued on, fixing the cuffs of said shirt. “Jackie. Why were you out and about today?”

You were going to punch him for that _Jackie_ bullshit. You really were.

“Brunch and snacks. I need some time outside _Sterling ,_ ” you responded dryly, but with a smirk at the last part.

He didn’t look amused whatsoever. “I thought you might’ve had enough after breaking your back and nearly falling off a train, _Jacqueline_ ,” he turned back with a smile.

Ooooh, that's how it was?

“I wouldn’t have broken my back if it wasn’t for your mother, _Archie_.”

He snickered, and started removing his belt. “Archie??”

“Yeah, that one was kinda bad..” You huffed.

“Kinda? That was horrible,” he laughed, throwing the leather to the side. One of the workers caught it and he put his arms out to a T.

Mutters about what type out outfit, and he responded with _‘casual’_ and they began the fitting. Honestly not how you thought you’d be spending your weekend, like- at all.

You looked around. Hmm… nice place really. But did he need to get EVERYTHING fitted? 

“Why do you need a new fit?” you asked, looking around.

One of the people started measuring between his arms. He turned to you slightly. “Some old clothes are running loose. I keep on getting into fights.”

Fair fair. Made sense, the company was like a literal ticking time bomb. “Also my butler, servent-person- sucks at ironing. He ruined my new button up-” he muttered the last bit.

“Awee, _Sterling_ all poutie cause his clothes ruined?” You mocked.

He scoffed, and turned back to them. Only to have to turn a bit to the left. “What about you. I have a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Who’s Buccilati? He sounds like _‘incident one’_ ,” he asked, only to receive a shrug. “He was more… incident -1. Just a dead friend, who- defected from the mafia.”

“So he was killed.”

“They do that with everyone, it was just bound to happen.”

“Thought you said you liked the mafia more than yakuza.”

You paused, and left the position under your hand. “They just have better food, maybe better company,” you smiled. He just hummed in response.

More silence, while he was being measured. 

He never removed his tie you noticed, he simply left it tied close to his neck and would always mess with his hair or cuffs of his shirt whenever he was waiting.

The silence was overbearing honestly, he looked just as uncomfortable as you. Just better at hiding it.

“Have you ever lost someone important to you?”

He blinked, and turned to you. “For someone that hates me, you sure cut deep with questions and apologizes,” he chuckled.

“I-” you started. “Seriously, you’re a buzzkill.”

Triple douche.

“Well I don’t know, I told you something!” You made some hand motions, as if it’d make your point come across clearer.

“I know you did, I was there,” he responded, and turned back to the worker.

Ugh, now it was awkward…

After another few minutes of silence, you debated just leaving and asking if he could call Lana for you.

Finally, they were measuring his back. He turned to face you.

“I almost got married once.”

You snickered. “We all have once,” you joked.

“No seriously. I was in love,” he sighed. “She died though, fell off my penthouse balcony trying to save me from some bitch.”

You- stopped. Thought about what he just said. Well two things...

He lived in a goddamn penthouse? Jesus how much does the spy industry pay???

Number two- was that he kinda answered your question.

Well damn, it wasn’t awkward now. 1 to 1. I mean you both were still in a fitting room, hating each other and probably filled to the brim with hatred for each other. More dislike now.

“Was she pretty?”

“Beautiful,” he smirked. “White hair, bangs, great body.”

Ah of course.

You asked for her name, and he just started rambling about her. Her name, her occupation, how nice she was. 

Then he got to how he knew her for like 2 days, and you two started bickering about how- unethical that was. But you let him talk about her.

The similar reaction to when he was petting babou, his eyes just kinda lit up.

Once more- might be the alcohol in his system.

Finally, they motioned for him to sit down while they worked on adjusting some of their items. He took a seat on the decorated wood, and held his neck. Tired obviously.

Still had a rather- awkward set to the area while you two waited.

“Who’s your favorite person in the office?” You asked, sitting up and fixing your dress.

“Lana. No doubt, orrr- yeah no Lana,” Archer responded, sitting up on the pedestal as well. “You?”

“Ehhh, leaning towards Lana or Cyril,” you responded.

“You got a thing goin’ on with him or something??” Archer cringed.

“Ew, no. Why would I,” you cringed as well. “Don’t know- what about Krieger? You two seem to get along.”

“Tell me you're joking. Have you MET Krieger?” You shivered.

“Alright, fair,” he looked to the side. “ _Nothing_ appealing about him?”

“Yes, _end of conversation_ ,” you shot him down. He just chuckled.

“So no one in the office catches your eye?” He asked, trying to maybe imply something about sleeping about him… you obviously caught on.

“No one. Zero, Zada. Also in your dreams,” you returned. “And I’m not even gonna ask cause you very obviously have the hots for Lana.”

“Wh- NO! No I don't!?” He grew defensive and you just laughed. 

He paused, and stood back up onto the wooden set. “Jackie, I’m serious, you’ve never laughed until today.”

Before you could respond he cut you off.

“Seriously, do you have a douchebag switch on you?”

You gave him a deadpan expression, and cleared your throat. “I like separating my work life from my real life.”

“How can you do that if you're not even a _Jack in the box_ ,” he responded. “Like- every time I talk to you, you’re in work mode.”

“Every time I talk to you, you’re in drunk mode,” you returned and he just rolled his eyes.

“Har Har. At least people find me easy to talk to.”

You clicked your tongue. A took a deep breath through your teeth. "Ooo- do they?"

"Yes. Yes they do."

You hummed in response.

Alright...

* * *

You were- an enigma.

Sitting there with him, talking to him while he worked on getting a new suit. He didn’t really- learn much about you, it was mostly him talking about previous incidents in ISIS. Which you diligently listened to for some god forsaken reason.

Not even pulling out your phone- which begged the question... where the hell was your purse.

If you bought a brownie then how?? Maybe you had a wallet somewhere. The dress did have pockets-

He checked his watch. It was 1 pm...

“Hey wanna get lunch?” He asked, fixing the cuff of his shirt again. Shit he had to stop that- you'd notice or something.

“I already had brunch, and a snack,” you kept an unamused look.

“Oookay, just qualify it as a late breakfast then,” he shrugged, putting his arms out. Quickly the workers returned his regular jacket. “My new outfit should be done in maybe an hour or two, lunch is viable.”

“Is- Is Sterling Archer asking me out to lunch,” you put a hand to your chest, seemingly in shock.

He just crossed his arms. “ _So funny_ , seriously. Lunch?”

You turned to the side, to seemingly think about it. While he buttoned his coat, and adjusted his tie. Getting everything into order, and a hop off the pedestal.

Now where was his belt- He looked around, and- yeah! There it was. He walked over, and grabbed it. Fixing his pants.

“I guess- but I’ll pay,” you told him.

“Fine by me,” he responded, tying the belt around his pants. I mean, free food? Deal.

He turned to you, to see a mildly upset face. “What? Was I supposed to say no?”

“I mean-”

“You said you have over a billion dollars in your account, it wouldn’t kill you to get us some fries and milkshakes,” he smirked, fixing the flaps of his suit over his pants. 

Bam! Outfit done- kinda… 

“I guess-”

“Jesus, Scrooge McDuck, if it bothers you, I’ll fucking pay,” he huffed, running a hand through the side of his hair. “No it’s fine I’ll-”

“No, you whined about it, so I’ll pay.”

“Wh- Archer, come on-”

He was already leaving, and the small tip taps of your shoes followed quickly behind him. Protests he was going to ignore-

“Come on, I’ll pay-”

“Denied. You were being a bitch about it,” he put a hand up as a no, but to also open the door. He pushed it open, and watched you duck out before it hit the side.

“That’s uncalled for.”

“What? Calling you a bitch?”

“Absolutely,” you nodded, running to his side. Lord you were- yeah a pain. “Okay, now a feel bad for whining- just let me-”

More bickering about who was going to pay for the Wendy's meal.

While walking down the street and bickering, you both were shoved by a group of people walking down the street. People running, and just- Yikes.

You both were equally annoyed with the situation.

“I actually hate living here,” you muttered.

“You get used to it-” He shrugged, but very quickly the both of you were shoved again. “Okay- WHAT the fuck?!”

You turned back to see the people, bur once more very quickly- another person bumped into you. This time up front- rather than the side.

But rather than falling backwards, you were pulled forward. Turning back around only to see a gun. Lodged onto your forehead.

Oh were you being robbed? Ohhh!! _First timsies!!_

Archer took a millisecond to process it and before he stopped the guy, he started threatening you AND him.

“Come near me and she gets shot. Gimme your money! NOW!” The guy exclaimed, pushing the barrel more into your skin.

Okay first off- Ow.

Two- the safety was on.

You were sure Archer noticed it too, but he didn’t move. Rather reached into his coat pocket for the ready if he took it off.

“Dude that was so un-threatening,” Archer chuckled.

“Seriously,” you added, shimming out of his grasp while he held your arm down.

“WH?? Just give me your-” He began but quickly, Archer pulled his gun and you flipped his out of his hand. Turning the safety off, and aiming it at him.

The man put his hands up, and- in response you both shoved past him. You turned the safety back on, and the two of you made your way down the street again.

“Is that what you meant by Midtown?” You asked, putting the gun into your dress pocket. Extra!

“Exactly that. Anyway. Chocolate frostie?” Archer smirked.

“Uhh, Hell yeah?”

The man stood there frozen in confusion and- somewhat fear. Of the two people he decided to rob- he felt like it was the worst conclusion he could've come too.

. . .

* * *

[ おまけ: Omake: Bonus / Noncanon…. Luxury ]

He turned around, and kept his arms out to a T while spinning.

You smirked.

“Go white boy, go,” you told him.

Immediately his head turned to you. “TAKE IT BACK!” He hissed, stopping the needed pose and almost seemingly ready to kill you.

\--

“Favorite sweet?” you asked with a smile.

“Eh- not a fan of sugar,” he shrugged, and immediately you stood up. “Where the hell are you fucking going??”

“I don’t think I can be your love interest.”

“W?? We were love interests???????” He exclaimed.

\--

You didn’t move from your bed that day. You were still- very much in pain. From the whole car and train incident. 

Like you could barely move your body, you had to have your UberEats guy set the meals up in front of you.

When the dude set down your lunch, you struggled to grab the GODDAMN FORK.

“Fucking- Archer…”

Archer was walking down the street, when suddenly..... he sneezed.

\--

“So what, you got a thing going on with Cyril?” He asked, and you just nodded, not looking at him and still looking around the area.

“Yeah.”

He paused.

“Oh- yikes-” You turned back to him.

“YIKES?!”

\--

“What about Krieger? If not Cyril then-”

“Yeah, we’re dating.”

Archer took an absolute- triple take. No- his life flashed before his eyes...

“Yikes-” he hissed, turning away. “What do you mean YIKES?”

“I mean... I feel absolutely sorry for you.”

\--

[ おまけ: Omake Over ]

* * *

Holding the chocolate frostie you grabbed one of the fries from the cup he was holding. You held the soft served treat, he held the fries. It was a system, and probably the first time you guys actually agreed on something.

He didn’t want to hold the cold, and you didn’t want to hold the warm. So every once in while he’d dip a fry in it, and eat it.

“You ever wonder who created this trend?” He asked, chewing on the fry.

“Never,” you responded, he just scoffed.

More bickering, and absolute stupid arguments about trends and what shakes went best with the fries. Chocolate or Vanilla? Strawberry??? 

Which places had the best fries- Which… Archer had said Culvers or Wendys. You- were indefinite and couldn’t decide.

“You know- Buffalo Wild Wings? They have THE WORST fries in the world,” he told you, taking another bite of his fries. “Disgusting. Either burnt or too soggy.”

“Dude, that's so harsh-” you laughed, adjusting your grip on the cup. “What about...chick-fil-a?”

“Okay, so- they may be gross corporate scum, but I don’t care, it’s good food. Uhmmm- they’re good. Too much salt.” He responded, finishing the fry

You just snickered again. Grabbing another one, you dipped it and took a bite of it. “Okay- last one. Wing-Stop.”

“Woah, no need to get controversial!” He turned to you, in seemingly shock.

But he just started laughing to himself. “No opinion.”

“Alright, Alright,” you nodded in understanding. “You got a music preference?”

“Okay if it wasn’t obvious enough-” He told you, taking a normal fry. “Jazz. Great, fantastic.”

“Sure-”

“ _I’ll ignore that,_ ” he turned to you with a slightly dirty look and you just snickered. “Another is 80’s and 90’s. Literally gives my ears orgasms,” he sighed.

“Odd way to put it-” you cringed. But he just shrugged. “If you could be or- if you could describe yourself in a song.. What would it be?”

“Oh god-” Archer started. “I wanna say DangerZone buttt- _Sex on Fire_ ,” he pointed to you with his decision. You agreed, not that he would be the song but rather it was a good song all together.

I mean- it was.

“You? I think you’d be… Super Freak.”

A double take on what he said. “Do you even know what those lyrics describe?”

“A _kinky girl_?” You nodded to what he described. “I have this theory- you’re actually a dominatrix. It’s why you won’t have sex with me, cause I haven’t paid.” He explained, but you just shook your head trying to not laugh.

“That is so- stupid-” you rubbed your forehead.

“Okay, but it’s feasible.”

“I’m not a dominatrix,” you turned to him, slightly amused. " _At all_. Even if you paid me, I wouldn't have sex with you."

“Your loss,” he returned, and went to grab a fry but- He dumped the thing upside down and sighed. Empty, and he watched you frown too.

Especially since the milkshake was still half full.

“Well-” He began.

“I should start heading home,” you started before he could finish. “It’s almost 4, and uhh. I should probably make dinner and try not to get lost.”

“Yeah-” He looked to the side. “Do you- need help orrr?”

“Since when do you care?” You returned with an amused smile. He just sighed.

“Nevermind then. Ass.”

You clicked your tongue. “You’re one to talk.”

You looked around for a trash can. The two of you walked over to it, and tossed it in. An unfinished, poor little frostie. You wiped your cold and kinda watery hands on your dress. Then looking at the street number.

Back at 14th street… 

You pat down your pockets- expecting your phone. Only to remember you left it at home, and- you still didn’t know where you needed to go. You could call a Taxi- or just wander until you found the apartment complex.

“Lost?” Archer hummed.

“Shut up, I’m weighing my options- I might just get a Taxi,” You put a finger to your chin.

“Don’t get a Taxi here, go to 10th street. Ones here are full of uh- rapists.”

You blinked, and sighed. _Of course_. Well, at least he told you.

“Thanks… Have a nice night,” you waved him off with a smile, and started walking down the street.

He waved back, and as you turned the corner- you let out a rather heavy sigh. Continuing the walk, and recollecting your day. Searching for 10th street, and trying not to get lost.

The rather- empty but still averagely full streets of Manhattan bothering you.

Okay-

That happened, you guessed. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> archer hyperfixate go brrrrr  
> Comments and Kudos appreciated!!


	9. Los Scandalo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You dropped your ravioli- FOR a corpse?! Jesus christ- a prime minister at that, can't have shit in manhattan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p: 2/13/2021 | h: 338 | k: 23 | c: 14 | b: 5  
> i spilled glitter all over my computer while making this...  
> also ty so much for 20+ kudos and 300+ hits!! it means a lot, lets me know there are lots of sterling lovers out there heehee

* * *

The buzz of your phone is what catches your attention, while you’re sitting in your living room, enjoying dinner. Not takeout, but rather homemade ravioli… The nice kind.

Taking another bite, you opted to ignore it, but it just continued to buzz. Don’t look at the contact, don’t look at the contact-

_ > Malory Archer. _

God damn it, this bitch.

Swallowing your meal, you picked up the device next to you and paused the television. Putting it to your ear after clicking accept, you hummed. “Yes?”

“NAME!! Please, I need your help, I need you to come to my place!! RIGHT AWAY!!” Malory exclaimed into the phone.

That was her faked panicked voice, what the hell. This couldn't be good...

“And why is that Ma’am?” you took another bite of your _amazing_ ravioli, unpausing the TV and staying criss crossed on the couch.

“PLEASE!! It’s an emergency, I’ll send you my address. Sterling and Lana should be there.”

Ugh, Archer, this bitch.

Swallowing your meal once more, you gave a very loud huff. “Yes ma’am. I’ll be there in a few, I need to get dressed.”

“PLEASE HURRY! Sterling has the key, so they should be waiting for you-”

You hung up, and threw the device into one of the pillows. Yawning, you took another bite of your meal and watched your television, before taking a sigh. She could wait- a few minutes. Looking at the address, it was much closer than it seemed, but that made it easier to lounge about.

Taking another bite of the noodle, you groaned. Placing the unfinished meal to the side, you got up and trudged to the bedroom to get dressed. The TV played in the background while you slipped on a dark iron colored button up, and black leggings.

Jumping into the pant leg, you turned the TV off, grabbed your mini purset, phone in pocket, and gun in the back pocket. Extra bullets in the purse as well. The unfinished ravioli laid on the couch while you slammed the apartment door shut in a strained sigh.

Locking it quickly, and skipping down the stairs humming the usual.

Stupid boss, and her stupid quirky habits.

Stupid Archer, and him existing.

Lana’s fine, like usual.

Walking VERY slowly down the streets of Manhattan at night, you made your way to your bosses apartment. For god knows what. Finding what seemed to be a rather prestigious home area, you examined it. Theme of obviously fake gold, and brown. It looked nice

Walking into it, you bumped into- a man.

Ah, he looked...very tired.

“Oh I’m so sorry!” You exclaimed, stepping back and examining him.

“Oh it’s no problem ma’am,” the Irish accent was shown through his voice.

You paused, looking around the living space. Very well kept, and red velvety. The badge on the man, read OWNER in- yeah fake gold. This must be the man in charge of the tenants. Asking for Malory's number would be best, since she only gave you the address. You smiled, and clasped your hands together.

“Hello sir! I was wondering if you knew where Malory Archer’s apartment was?” You hummed, walking a bit farther away from him, closer to the stairs.

“Ah!! Her room is on the third floor, you can’t miss it. It’s on the end ma’am!” He nodded, as his voice showed strain, and gave away his current unhealthy state.

Poor dude had to deal with Malory. 

You thanked him, and up the flight of stairs as quickly as you could. The elevator would take far too long, and if this really WERE an emergency. Making it to the third plight, you opened the door quickly and looked left and right down the halls. One side had a window, another had two figures discussing things at the front door.

The suit was all too familiar. Walking up EXTRA slow, you clicked your tongue.

“You got dragged into this too Lana?” You asked, looking at the large door.

“Yup,” she sighed.

“Are we gonna go in orrr?” Archer hummed, waving the key.

“Dude, you can open the door without our permission.”

“Jeez, stiff-ass,” he muttered, unlocking the door. 

The three of you entered, a large penthouse like home. How _quaint_ , really. The home just reeked of Malory Archer. The floral walls, everything from the furniture to the lights. 

“God, Mother. Costs like, a nickel. Or maybe you could swallow your pride and just apologize to your super,” Archer started, looking at his frantic mother. “Oh, and to me, for ruining my Friday night, which is now being spent here. So what, why the frantic phone call?”

“Yeah, I was enjoying my night. I left _my_ Ravioli for you.”

“Was it good?” Archer asked.

“Very.”

Malory was sitting in her chair, quiet. Gun in hand, and in a trench coat. Ok well, this was- weird. The _usual_ weird, god damn....

Lana walked up the woman, and waved a hand in front of her face. “Hello? Malory? Why did you call us?”

You turned your head to in front of you, and cringed. God damn, WHAT WAS THAT. 

Archer's attention wasn’t on it just yet. “Because if it was-” he started. His head turned, and his expression was the equivalent of disgust and shock yours had. 

“Oh. I'm gonna go out on a limb and say it had something to do with that,” he exclaimed, and pointed to the body, shot and bloodied, on a chair.

Eh, you couldn’t judge. If she killed him that’s fine, she might have her reasons. Her reasons for calling you guys here? Shall be judged. 

She looked like she was in shock too. Her attention went to her workers. “It’s- It’s NOT what it looks like!” She got up from her seat.

Archer gave a fake laugh. “Oh, well that's a relief. Because it looks like you're sitting here with a gun!” He motioned to her weapon. 

"And over there, strapped to a chair and shot to death, is a guy in a full-body latex catsuit! Or am I misreading the situation?!” He made motions towards the body, in a disgusted manner.

“Yeah I’m out, I’m not helping you with this kinky catsuit,” you muttered, already heading for the door.

Archer grabbed your arm, and pulled you back to where you were standing. Like a way of _‘if I’m suffering through this, so is your horrible ass.’_

“Technically- It’s a Zentai…” she mumbled, looking at the dead body.

All three of you exchanged glances. “Wh-What???” you all muttered.

Malory elaborated. “A Zentai covers the face and head. I think a catsuit just stops here… **”** she motioned for her neck.

“I’m done,” you tried leaving again. Pulled back by Lana this time.

Quickly, she took the weapon from Malory, muttering a _‘gimmie that-’_ in an angry tone. She examined it, looking at the bullet holder. Malory started protesting immediately. “I DIDN’T shoot him!!”

She opened the holder, as a demonstration to the woman. “So, you're saying the fact that your gun has recently been fired, is-”

Archer finished her sentence. “-is unrelated to the dead guy over there, who's chock full of bullets!”

Malory glanced at the body again and muttered more. “Well, obviously they're related…”

Archer immediately reached for his flask. “Yeah take that tone,” he shot back.

“I SWEAR I didn’t shoot him!”

You paused, and thought about it. “Why don’t we just check the type of bullets inside the guy. If their your gun’s type of bullets then you're the killer.” 

She looked at you and blinked. “No one asked _you_ , Miss. Stiff-ass professional.”

“I’m just saying, if you DIDN’T shoot him, Wouldn’t it be a WEIRD coincidence, that if the bullets were the same as yours… his killer just so happened to use the same type?”

“We have no way to see if I even DID. Which I _didn’t_!”

“Just call in Krieger,” you offered. “Let him check out the body.”

“God no,” Everyone said simultaneously.

“Okay. So I guess he walked in here already shot, obviously panicking, so you had to restrain him with these leather cuffs, and then to keep precure on the wounds you greased him up and squeezed him into this...” Archer walked up to the body, and crouched. Examining it.

“Zentai!! And of course not, you ass! Someone broke in here and shot him!” She looked at her son, crouching at the body.

He pulled the skin tight suit, and it slapped the dead body once it let go. Sounds you never thought you’d hear… Wow, ugh. He got up, and walked back to the group.

“Well, unless it was the creepy-old people-bondage-sex police, why would anyone break in here and shoot him?! No answer? Okay, let's ask him!” He chugged a bit of his drink, clearly upset.

Lana pinched the bridge of her nose in an aggravated manner. “Holy shitt..”

“Because he's Savio Mascalzone!!”

“Holy shit, SAVIO?!” You almost yelled.

“Who??” Archer asked, but Lana cut him off.

“Oh for- the prime minister of Italy?!” She exclaimed.

You went up to examine the body. Taking the head section off the man. Only to reveal, Indeed. This was Savio Mascalzone. You frowned.

“The what? ! And wait, doesn't Italy use a king?” Archer looked at the body you were examining.

You were going to hurt him.

“What the fuck, no Italy doesn’t use a king,” you shot back, going behind his body.

“What year do you think this is?” Malory looked at her son.

He put a finger to his chin, and thought about it. God he was taking too long, this was a happening NOW situation. He kept thinking. “ I- yeah, exactly, good question.”

“It’s 20-” you started, but were cut off.

“And uh, speaking of questions…” he walked back to where you were, and looked at the body. Malory's protests about not going back there were heard. “ I have a question! _Mother_! Why does this chair have no seat!” He almost yelled.

He was getting ready to look under it, but you grabbed his shoulder. “Dude I wouldn’t. This is YOUR mother, we’re talking about.”

He opted to ignore your remark, and looked under the chair. His head immediately went back up, to shoot his mom a look of fear, anger, and trauma. “And what! Is in his ass?! _Mother_! What is in this man's ass?!”

Whelp, you never thought you’d be in this situation. 

Sitting in the same room as the man who gave you work sometimes, but instead he was dead. Also he had a plug in, and was in a Zentai, at your Bosses apartment.

Nope never would’ve guessed. _In realtà stai per smettere…_

“Oh please, don't act like you've never seen a... _‘marital aid’_ before,” Malory huffed.

“Not in a DEAD prime MINISTERS ASS!” He yelled, getting up from his spot. 

“Jesus, what did Italians do to you,” you asked, getting up from the spot as well and examining the dead man.

“And you don't have to keep repeating it! We've established where it is!” Malory exclaimed.

“Yeah so, you wanna move on to why? Wait, not _why_ that! Why is he here! Why is the GOD DAMN, prime minister of Italy in my mother's apartment.”

“I’m not even surprised,” Lana muttered.

Malory sat back down, with a drink now in hand. Which... she retrieved… when? She sat down, and took a deep breath. “Savio and I met after the war, when I was in Italy with Gladio.”

“What, was that his brother?” Archer remarked.

You snickered, and held an arm on the top of the sear seat. God, as much as a dumbass he was-

“No it’s-” “ _EW._ ” Archer cringed, before she even started talking. You snickered more.

“Are you done?” she had a deadpan expression.

“No, hold on. _EW_. Now I’m done,” he smirked. He turned to you, to see you trying not to laugh more.

He looked accomplished.

Malory sighed. “Operation Gladio. It was a NATO stay-behind mission, set up to counter a possible Soviet invasion of Western Europe.”

“But then it sort of turned into this whole weird cryptofascist CIA shitshow, starring Allen Dulles and a bunch of former Nazis,” Lana finished.

“Fucking Hitler,” You and Archer muttered.

“Thanks, _Holly Hindsight_. Anyway, Savio was in Italian intelligence-” Malory kept her upset expression while explaining.

“Rimshot!” Archer sipped his alcohol. You finally snapped, and gave a short light laugh.

Once more he looked accomplished.

“- _shut up,_ and we were working all these late nights, there was a mutual attraction, one thing led to another…”

“Skip,” Archer asked. You nodded.

“And then he got married and went into politics. But ever since then, once a year he'd slip away and we'd spend a romantic weekend together,” she finished.

“Wow isn’t this romantic. Doesn’t this just SCREAM romantic Lana? Name?”

“Archer…” Lana groaned, and rubbed her forehead temples in annoyance. 

“What, Lana?! What's more romantic than a _dildo-party-slash-murder party_ ? Honestly, 10 outta 10 _MOTHER_ ,” his sarcasm stabbed everyone in the room.

“Would you SHUT UP! A murder I'm trying to get a handle on, so could you shut up for a second!” Lana snapped at him.

The group stood in silence, while she thought. Malory spoke up once more.

“He wasn’t always- into that.”

“You mean vice versa?” Archer shot back.

“SHUT UP! As he grew older, Savio's tastes became more and more... exotic. And so he started introducing all these... accoutrements very gradually.”

“Well, he'd have to. Thing's huge,” Archer chuckled. Lana started hitting him, hard. “Ow! Ow! Okay, okay, I -- okay! God, your hands are like cricket bats!”

“Exotic is an understatement. Good god, I can’t believe this happened. It’s weird cause I know him, and DIDN’T kill him myself,” you crossed your arms, grabbing the brachial of your arm.

“Oh right, you’re stationed in Italy and Japan,” Lana looked at you

“Yeah- Well I wonder who’s gonna take over now that he’s DEAD, with what are probably _YOUR_ bullets,” you looked at Malory.

“I didn’t KILL him!” She exclaimed.

“So Malory, what happened, can you walk us through the crime then?” Lana asked, looking at her, while she proceeded to chug her drink. 

“Yeah. Just the crime of murder, not the crime of sodomy-by-rubber-eggplant,” he remarked. Once more you snickered.

She explained the details of the _‘crime,’_ which you were still convinced she had done. Apparently, he was in for a speech to the UN. But gave a slip to his watchers, and met her around seven. 

They drank, he got ready. She went to refill her champagne, and came back. 3 break ins, and the more she told the more it seemed like a fake story.

They shot him, she shot them back and failed which hailed the question-

“- Why did you have a gun?!” Lana exclaimed.

“Hm? Oh, well, Savio liked it to seem a little... dangerous. You know?” She gave a fake smile to you three.

“No, Mother, I don't! Jesus, what else was on tonight's menu?! Sex under a hive of Africanized bees?!” Archer gave another chug of his drink. 

“Hot, I love bees and gunplay,” you have a sarcastic input.

Lana shot him a look, and asked her to continue. “Right you shot three times-?”

“And missed! Can you believe it?” Malory faked a gasp too.

“No. Oh, sorry, was that rhetorical? Lawyer up, call the cops.”

Oh my god, this ass.

She looked very confused as his remark.

“What?”

“Oh, and hit the throttle on the bourbon, because I'm gonna have to... I'm gonna have to bust you in the face a couple times,” he took off his coat, and rolled up his sleeves.

Oh.

_O h._

“What are you talking about?!” She exclaimed.

He undid his tie, and threw it to the side, and unbuttoned the top flap. 

**O h.**

“Self-defense! It's your only shot! We gotta uncuff him and... de-dildo him, obviously,” he stated like it was nothing. “Smash the furniture like he was chasing you around all rapey, fortunately he's Italian so that shouldn't be too hard a sell, then-”

“Savio is half French,” you told him.

“Damn-” he snapped. “I dunno, it can still sell. There have been French cases too.”

“I! Didn't! Shoot him!” She grew more defensive.

Archer looked at his mother. “You probably wanna play that a lot softer with a jury.”

“A jury?! When you don't believe me?!”

“Would you believe me?” You offered her.

She looked at you, and squinted. A way of saying, that no… she would not.

God what a bitch. She just turned away, finally giving you _NO_ as a response.

“Mother, come on, I mean I want to believe you…” Archer started, and you decided to finish his sentence. “But it’s you. You have a history of lying.”

Thus you were thrusted into into a conversation about how she was shot. Which you wondered how you didn’t even notice until now. Questions were answered, pity was dropped and they were back where they started.

Why you were called there. To get rid of the body, because you guys worked for her.

“Sterling! The Italian prime minister was just assassinated in my apartment! And so I think an apology is in order!”

He scoffed, and sipped his drink again. How was it not empty? “Thanks, I know it’s hard for you.”

“Wh-? You three owe me an apology!”

“No,” You and Lana retorted.

“For what?!” Archer asked, finally realizing the insides of his flask was gone. “Not believing in me!!”

“How about you apologize, for dragging us into your _S &M- dildo-sex-murder freak show_?!” He responded, walking over to her coffee table, and delicately refilling his drink.

With what you assumed was bourbon. 

“Look! I bet I'll never be able to have sex again without thinking about this! I bet I won't even be able to eat spaghetti and meatballs! Oh my God…”

“What?” You all asked at his realization of sorts.

He looked at the group.

“I could eat. I mean, _not_ necessarily spaghetti and meatballs, but... Not necessarily _not_ spaghetti and meatballs. I mean I _really like_ spaghetti and meatballs. Man if I don't get some spaghetti and meatballs, I may literally die.”

You were going to punch him.

* * *

Here he was. Making spaghetti, and some nice sauce with his worker person people. Not necessarily friends, just some idiots. Ya know?

He lightly mixed, while the local annoying assassin watched him intently spin the red sauce.

“Can I try it?”

“Did you not have dinner?” He retorted.

“I left my Ravioli for your mother,” you frowned.

“Yeah go ahead then.”

You dipped one spoon into the sauce, and drank it off the metal. The satisfied look on your face indicated you liked it, and he gave a VERY small smile. 

“It’s great! Add a bit of basil and it’ll be great. But chill on the salt,” you told him, putting the spoon in your mouth again.

Wow… he felt accomplished. Mainly cause you were a total downer 1000% of the time. So the compliment felt nice. He watched as you made your way to the living room with the spoon still in your mouth, and a satisfied somewhat second time smile on your face.

“By the way, thanks SO much-” Lana started.

DAMN IT.

“You're welcome. But you should wait'll you try it, I'm just kinda winging it here. By the way, where's the basil mother?”

“I MEANT for dragging me into this hot mess,” Lana snapped.

“Still welcome,” he chuckled, as he began to dig through cabinets. Finding a small bottle labeled ‘ _Wild Oats Basil Leaves’_ with what he ASSUMED was Basil. But it looked like weed-

The stuff inside- He opened the cap, and sniffed. Yeah it didn’t smell like weed-

Oh shit, you were right… This _would_ make it better. He closed it, and made his way back to the pot, and sprinkled a bit into it. 

“So. We've got a dead Italian prime minister in the living room, which-”

“Sucks. I bet he knew how to make better sauce,” Archer replied, getting a spoon.

You peeked into the kitchen, taking the spoon out of your mouth. “He sucked at cooking, besides yours is really good.”

“You can say that again… About his cooking, not your sauce,” Malory verified to an unamused Archer. 

“Wanna try it again?” He offered you. 

You nodded, as he offered the spoon. You sipped it, and smiled again. “Ohh wow, this is _great_.”

He sipped the bit you left off, and nodded in agreement. “Yeah, sorta thanks I guess.”

“This will be hard to explain. Especially given the circumstances leading up to his death, which were-”

“Dildoey,” Archer offered.

“Kinky,” You gave.

“UNSEEMLY!” Lana finished, with a slight tone.

Archer shrugged and kept mixing. “Potato podildo…” You chuckled, and he once more- felt glad.

Were you off today or something? What the fuck, you were actually laughing at his jokes. Then again, you laughed when you had your day off and he ran into you.

Maybe you had some switch on your back that turned you into a douchebag during work hours.

Seemed plausible, you worked in Japan at one point. 

“So _‘plausible deniability’_ isn't a super-realistic goal here. So we need to sneak the body out somehow,” Lana stated.

“Krieger,” you gave once more.

No one acknowledged it again.

“Sure, we'll just walk a dead body right out the front door! Sounds great Lana!” Sterling gave a sarcastic remark. “Idiot…”

“What do you wanna BURN the apartment down then?” She exclaimed.

More bickering about not burning down the apartment. Why was this even an argument, it seemed REASONABLE. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“No THAT'S FINAL! Nor can you burn down my apartment, so think of something else!” his mother exclaimed.

“I shall fetch a rug,” he gave his best impression of Woodhouse he could.

“Something else! You're not rolling him up in one of my rugs!”

Oh nooo. Her rugs….

More bickering between the gang, and oh! The sauce is done.

He finally spoke again, after all… they needed his opinion. 

“Okay.. how about- We... get some coveralls, and a van. Like a carpet cleaning van, and just walk him right out the front door!” He offered.

“You just called ME and idiot for that!” Lana motioned to him.

“Your version didn’t involve coveralls,” He smirked.

“What about the basement?” you asked, throwing the spoon into the sink.

The clatter made everyone flinch, but the conversation continued on. 

“No. We'd have to go past the owners apartment, and his door is always open. I assume to let the stink of cabbage waft through the halls, but-”

“So? You think he'd be a problem?” Lana asked, tilting her head.

“Him? I ran into him on the way here, he was fine.”

“We’re not the best of terms,” as she proceeded to tell a story about- how he needed money and she slammed the door on him like it was nothing.

“What is your problem with the Irish?” he laughed.

“You mean besides not being on our side in World War Two?” His mother snapped back.

“Malory, that was like- years ago.”

“Yeah, besides that. Wait, seriously? They were Nazis?!” He asked, genuinely. 

You laughed, and he- ok now he felt kinda bad. “No-” Lana responded, so he thought about it more. Honestly in hopes of getting it right.

“Not Japanese-”

“Neutral! And now, since I don't wanna be an accessory after the fact, how about we figure out a way to get that body out of the damn apartment?!” Lana yelled at him.

He frowned, and went back to transferring his pot off the stove. “Where’d we land on the coveralls thing, cause I don’t know where we’d GET coveralls at almost-” He glanced at the clock.

“9:30 pm”

His mother put a finger to her chin, while thinking. Making his way to the cooked noodles, he began setting up plates.

“Soooo... if we can't get the body out of here in one piece…” His mom started, but was cut off by Lana.

“NOPE! NOPE NOPE! No! Malory, I've done some fucked up shit working for you, but I am not, repeat not, chopping up a dead body!” She hissed.

“Ew,” He responded.

You shrugged. “Wouldn’t be my first time.”

“Right, miss QUIRKY assassin lady, but- god what should we do then if you won’t” Malory shot at you.

“Listen mother-” Archer started, plating a set of noodles. But she burst into tears, and he almost dropped the Ladle. “No, hey, Mother, c'mon. Stop that! Here, here, look! I'm gonna get help!”

“From whoooo,” she sobbed.

Finally time to take your consideration.

* * *

The knock to the door got your attention, it happened so quickly.

You made your way, spoon in your hand ( cause you were practically DRINKING the sauce at this point ), and you opened it.

Oh, Krieger. Fuck, THEY FINALLY LISTENED.

He walked it with a pat on your shoulder, and Archer looked out the door to see him. He exited, and looked.

“Hey glad you could make it to help with the- situation…”

He nodded.

“I need access to a two-inch drain, hot water, three GFCI outlets, this bathroom should do nicely, and a pot of coffee, just like I like my women: black, bitter, preferably fair trade,” he stated, setting his bag down, before sniffing. “Your sauce smells perfect.”

You choked on the spoon you had in your mouth at his remark, and practically almost doubled over laughing. 

“Yeah thanks.”

“I assume that's our patient?” He asked.

Archer shook his head. “Not ours. Yours.”

He looked at the body, and smiled. “Thank you.” He turned his attention to you. “Wanna help? I assume you have experience with this.”

You looked at the body and cringed. It’s been AWHILE… 

Yeah no.

“Maybe next time- but uhm. Keep the organs, you can make some cash off them even if they're damaged. I can give you one of my BM buyers,” you told him, making your way to the kitchen.

“Wait really? How much?” Archer looked at you.

“Uhm, His heart and brain are not damaged based on the shots. About 800,000 or 1 mil just for the heart,” you opened the door.

“HOLY SHIT WH- Wait your not talking in yen or euros are you-”

“I'm talking USD, dumbass.”

You fully entered the kitchen to see Malory sipping the sauce too. She looked disgusted at the taste. Muttering a _‘too salty.’_

Ugh bitch.

“Yeah whatever, you never like anything I make or do,” Archer sighed, closing the doors behind him.

Malory glanced back at the doors. “Is Krieger- hard at work?”

“He literally might be, yeah,” Archer shivered.

“Why do you think I denied working with him-” you crossed your arms.

Everyone muttered an ew.

“Well say what you want about him. He’s VERY discreet-” and at the jinx of her words, a screech was heard.

GOD DAMN IT, was that CHERYL??

“Yeah… _Discreet_ ,” Lana looked at Malory, unamused.

"What the HELL is that?!" Pam exclaimed from behind the door. All of you pushed it open, and looked to see-

The morons in check.

Of COURSE, Krieger invited them. You weren’t even shocked, Archer ran a hand down in face as did Lana.

Cyril put a hand to his head, slightly panicked. “No no no no no! Whatever this is, I am not getting mixed up in it!!” He turned to the door, but very quickly- Malory went to it and locked it. 

“No, you’re not,” she shot him down and he returned with a sigh. Immediately, everyone started protesting about wanting to leave. Not wanting to deal with a corpse- 

Good lord, alright. Archer made both of his hands in a calming down motion. “Hey whoa, whoa, everybody calm down! It's not what it looks like!”

“ Well, then, what is it, exactly?!” Cyril hissed, looking between you main four and then the corpse. Obviously this didn’t look good.

“'Cause it sure as shit ain't a surprise party, Krieger! Ya big fat liar!” Pam looked at Krieger, which supplied a look from you.

He turned away, and started whistling. Bastard.

Lana whistled, and they all turned their attention to her. She put her hands to her hips, and took a deep breath and exhaled. “Someone's trying to frame Malory for murdering the prime minister of Italy.”

Cheryl gasped. “I bet it’s that wicked king!!”

“Italy doesn't have a goddamn king!” You hissed. 

“It doesn’t?” Krieger and Pam asked and you balled your hands into a fist. “No. It _doesn't._ ”

“Yeah it was news to me too,” Archer added.

“So?! Why'd Krieger drag us into it?!” Cyril exclaimed, ignoring your guys’ statements. 

“Yeah Krieger,” you turned him once more. “ _Why_?”

“Uhhh-” He began with a finger up, and paused still. “I needed help... disseminating him,” he gave in with a sigh.

Cheryl looked grossed out and gave an elongated ‘eww’ at the statement. “Not what it means!” Kieger shot the idea down. 

“Still it’s pretty gross though,” Lana turned to the conversation.

“ And brilliant! When I'm done, each one of us will walk out the front door carrying a small parcel!” Krieger started telling you, flipping a whiteboard that he picked up showing a map of the area.

“How small-” Ray muttered.

He made a size with his hands. About the size of a- flattened ball. “Eh. Then on our way home, we simply drop the parcels into seven different trash cans in three different boroughs.”

Oh alright- that was actually kinda- smart. Lana seemed to agree.

“And hopefully, when you look at all the different drop points on a map, it'll look like a big smiley face!” He stated with a smile, motion at the face on the map.

“Awe!” You and Pam went, and Lana gagged. “That's actually pretty gross-”

Archer shrugged. “Dunno, seems pretty smart to me.”

Cyril looked like he was about to snap at your idiocy. “Every time! Every single time we come over here, we have to help you get rid of a dead body!”

Jesus how many times have they come over?

“You’ve only been here twice,” Malory sipped her drink like it was nothing.

I mean- still more than it needed to be.

“Speaking of, why the hell was the prime minister of Italy here?” Ray asked, leaning on his wheelchair.

“Don’t ask,” The trio of you went.

“And follow up, did those dastardly dagoes kill him and then dress him up like a big giant penis, or-” Pam asked, and you just rolled your eyes. Malory remembered something quickly.

“Oh God, that reminds me. Krieger?” She went, and he gave a thumbs up.

“Yup, Yup, Yup. I found it!” He smiled.

“Found what?” Pam asked, trying to look but Archer stopped her.

“Don’t ASK,” you three once more went.

“Can I keep it?” Krieger asked, and you gagged. Grabbing Archer's shoulder, and leaning. He pat your back in sympathy. “Keep what?” Cheryl asked.

“ _DON’T ASK_!” You three went.

“I’m sorry I ever asked if you were dating Krieger,” Archer whispered to you, and you covered your mouth to stop the laugh. “I’m sorry for myself.”

Malory took a deep breath, and shot any idea Krieger had with it. “Just take it OUT of here,” she exclaimed. “Take that tone-” the _‘doctor’_ muttered, looking back at his work.

The owner of the home shook her head in a rather upset manner. “I'd like to know this could possibly get any worse…”

“Good job, you jinxed it,” Pam snapped at her, and Malory shot her a dirty look.

“Well, for one thing, there's not enough sauce for everybody,” Archer added, while you removed your hand from his shoulder. “No seriously, it’s super good,” you helped.

“NYPD! Open up... _please_?” A bang at the door came, and everyone flinched and more tension started rising. 

“Jeez- it’s the cops-” Cyril whisper-yelled to the group, backing up from the door.

Archer sighed. “And-or the police could show up,” he crossed his arms.

“Oh for the- now what do we do?!” Malory exclaimed, gripping her cup more. Archer took a deep breath, and looked between the group and the door.

“Cover your arm up, answer the door, and stall them. Everyone else, let's get to the dining room, chop chop,” Archer clapped, dragging you all to the kitchen and to the dining room.

Following the bastard, the group of you entered the large- large dining room. It had a bunch of pathways leading to other rooms in the house, and quickly Archer looked around.

“Pam, go find some clothes for us to wear in Mother's closet or something-” Archer told her, and quickly she went through one of the hallways to Malory's room.

Cheryl started doing a giddy dance, and clapped. “OOO!! Are we pretending to be rich again!!!!”

“Bingo,” He pointed to her, and ran a hand through his hair. “Name, go get dinner ready. Just a few plates and wine please.”

“Archer, that's not going to-” Lana started but he cut her off.

“You can be the maid Lana, Name can be the maid/chef, the rest of us will be snobby rich people,” Archer concluded.

This was so stupid.

Standing there you watched the two of them argue, before Archer turned to you. “Come on, we don’t have all day _Stiff-ass_!”

Very quickly, you made your way to the kitchen.

Looking for an apron to put over your clothes, and in doing so- grabbing wine glasses. Doing this idea, you didn’t know why- Pulling a white, red stained apron over you… you partially hoped it was just food stains.

Quickly tied, you poured the wine. Grabbing plates, and throwing the Linguini on the plates. You returned to the dining room with the glasses to see everyone putting on-

Absolutely _absurd_ clothing.

“Wow.”

“You looked like you murdered someone,” Cyril turned to you.

“Eh, it's a constant state,” you returned, placing the wine on each seat they would be sitting on. 

Going back to the kitchen for the rest of the glasses, and going in between areas until you just needed to pour the sauce over the food. Everyone was mostly ready, and-

For some god forsaken reason Malory had a maid outfit- and Lana was wearing it. 

Thank god you didn’t have to-

DAMN IT, don’t jinx it moron!!

Returning back to the dining area with four plates in hand, two on each side- you opened the door to see- yup the cops. And the Morons…

“What's gotten into you, Calpurnia?!” Cheryl exclaimed, in a horrible british accent. 

Lord.

Calpurnia? Really? Was everything they did a reference-

“My mistake, ma'am,” Lana bowed, very clearly trying not to punch everyone at the table.

“Well, I should say it is, Calpurnia!,” Archer returned, with an ABSOLUTELY worse british accent. GOD. “Chef- Hurry up place the food you fool,” He turned to you.

Quickly you started placing each plate, “Muthah your maid is -- oh, hello!” Archer turned to his mother, to see the police officer. Not like it was an actual shock.

“Evening. Sorry to disturb your, uh…” the officer muttered, looking around at you set of morons.

“Elegant dinnah pahty, for the most elegant people in all of New Yawk!” Cheryl exclaimed, with a laugh.

You hated it here.

“Uh-huh. But we got a tip there'd been a murder up here,” The officer crossed his arms and eyed you. Who- yeah red apron made sense.

Offended, you put a hand to your chest. In the best british accent you could manage-

“Kind sir- I hope you don’t suspect me… I was simply cutting the beef for the bolognese, this is NO human blood,” you exclaimed. 

Archer almost doubled over from laughter, he looked rather amused at your participation.

He took a deep breath. “G-Good heavens, a murder? Well, apart from this sullen wench murdering good etiquette-” He snickered, pointing to Lana, but quickly she gripped his shoulder in anger. 

“OWW- oww- I-I find the very suggestion laughable-”He continued.

“So, you don't mind if I look around?” the officer raised an eyebrow, and none of you reacted.

Malory decided to speak for the idiots.

“Uh, no! Of course not! Calpurnia? May I speak with you in the kitchen?” Malory asked Lana, keeping her obvious fake smile. Lana agreed, and the officer fixed his hat.

“And I'll let you get back to your-” He muttered, getting ready to leave the dining room.

“Elegant dinnah pahty!”

“I hate you all so much,” Cyril muttered, leaning into his hands.

“No one cares, Figgis, you were only invited to round out the numbahs-” Pam responded in her british accent.

“Figgis, I suggest you get your elbows off the table!” You added in the accent as well.

The police guy left with an uncomfy huff, and Malory and Lana went to go discuss in the kitchen. The moment both the doors closed, the group of you excluding Cyril started laughing. 

“Oh- Oh my god, you ACTUALLY participated!” Archer laughed, pushing himself out of the seat.

“I needed to add to the reality,” you fixed the apron with an amused smile.

“Out of everyone, I hope _you_ wouldn’t,” Cyril sighed, looking out the window of the dining room.

“-20 stiff-ass points to you!” Pam smirked. Ray nodded.

“Well crap how many am I at now,” you put your hands on the table and leaned on it. The four of them started counting. 

Quickly all four of them gave their answer. 

“2000.” “580.” "900." “Wait- who’s negative twenty?”

Well nice to know.

“Want a reasonable number?” Cyril asked. You gave a sharp nod.

“Three hundred and fifty,” he slightly smiled, and you gave a heavy sigh.

Damn, still a rather large number.

You fixed the apron on you once more, watching everyone take off their horrible attire.

They were all throwing all of Malory's clothes to the side, and ignoring the meal.

Damn… you weren’t even able to taste it. A quick untie with help from Ray, you threw the thing to the side as well.

Taking a deep breath. Alright.

You glanced out the window. It seemed like it was almost midnight, but the city was still bustling to say the least. Maybe since it was a friday- you didn't know. 

. . .

* * *

[ おまけ: Omake: Bonus / Noncanon…. Murder ]

“So is this the actual Prime minister of Italy or did they hire an actor,” Archer asked, examining the face.

“Actor? What?” Malory asked.

“This looks like the real deal. I think the director actually did-” You returned, in shock. You two nodded. 

“WHAT??” Malory exclaimed, ever so confused. What was her child talking about???

\--

You posed in the reflection of the oven.

You have _OBTAINED_ the _{ MAID OUTFIT }_

The little head covering, and the floof of the dress showed off whatever form of curves you had. It ended just mid thigh, and included knee sock coverings

Little heels too!!

Jumping into the dining room you showed off your style you had earned in hopes of fooling the police.

Cyril did a- life take. Like he... he malfunctioned. Ray just complimented you.

“What the.. _NO_ TAKE IT OFF-” Archer yelled, turning away, blocking his face.

“Whaaaat. Come on, I look amazing,” you made a peace sign with a sad face.

“Hot,” Pam added. You shot her finger guns, and she returned them.

“Literally. Name. Take the maid outfit off,” Archer stared you down, full intent to kill probably- “Wh?! Archer come on-” 

“NOW!”

\--

You sipped the sauce and cringed.

Good god this was too salty for its own good. You could spare his feelings or….. be a total douchebag about it.

You decided on the latter.

“This is shit,” you deadpanned.

Archer gasped, putting a hand to his chest. “WHAT?! I thought it was good-”

“No. I assure you, french make better sauce than this.”

He looked more offended.

\--

Fixing the apron, you looked the cop dead in the eye.

“YOU- YOU'RE ON THE WANTED LIST IN THE STATION!” He pointed at you, and you were taken aback.

Shit- had the police caught on?! After 25 years??? Everyone turned to you.

“Uhmm, No I’m not?” You barely believed it yourself.

“YOU- You’re under arrest!!”

“For what?!” You exclaimed in protest, taking a few steps back. 

“Multiple cases of first degree murder!!” He responded, pulling his cuffs out.

“Uhhh, I'm not a murderer though.”

"We'll see what those witnesses and jury says," the officer hissed.

And so you were arrested, and sent to the death penalty. **Electric chair at that**.

Archer questioned his life choices that night. More than he would’ve wanted too. Everyone was somewhat shocked or confused and or scared.

\--

[ おまけ: Omake Over ]

* * *

You two watched Lana walk off. The moon and few street lights reflecting on you two, since it was almost 11 now. You took a deep breath, and- compreheaded everything that just happened.

Everything- you swore this whole working for ISIS thing was one of the most chaotic things you had done.

The street lights reflected on your outfit, as well as the trashcan you just threw the body parts into- which once more. You didn't plan to spend your Friday like this whatsoever. You muscles still hurt from the car chase, but were healing that was for sure.

More aching, that just made it hard to lift things. Including that- body parcel. Crap you had to text Krieger. You pulled out your phone, and went to his contact. The last message being 2 days ago and, _'lol got a corpse._ ' and him being like _'send pic.'_ And you did, who are you to disappoint. 

[ hey, you want my BM buyer? ]

The bubbled popped up instantly.

K - [ i dunno know. DO I?? ]

K - [ the answer is yes. yes i do ]

You snickered, and continued to type. [ okay dummie, i'll drop my computer off at the office later tonight ]

K - [ preferrrably 1 pleaseee ]

[ you ruin my sleep schedule (¬̀ - ́¬) ]

K - [ thats on - _you_ -, see you at 1 ]

Suddenly, a hand came to your shoulder and you flinched.

“Wanna get a frostie?” Archer glanced at your phone to see your messages, but you shut it off quickly before he could.

You turned to him, and cocked an eyebrow. “At 11-? Is Wendy's even open?”

“They close at one am, we can pick up some fries and a chocolate frostie.”

That- did sound rather nice. Considering you left your dinner, and missed out on the Linguini. Fries and chocolate did sound amazing right now actually. You could get a snack before you dropped off your things and drove back to the office in a few.

“Sterling Archer? asking _me,_ His ARCH nemesis, to a late night drive in?” You gasped, putting a hand to your chest and shooting him an amused smirk.

“Ha ha, _so funny_. Yes or no.”

You thought about it- for maybe ten seconds. Easy, easy.

“It's too tempting... Yes. I will,” you removed his hand from your shoulder. He perked up.

“I parked my car around the corner,” he told you, walking ahead and putting his hands in his pockets. You trotted behind him, and right at the corner. There was his dodge.

He went to the driver seat, and you hopped into the shotgun. Feeling the leather, and looking at him as he buckled. You did so yourself, and rubbed the sides.

“How do you get a boner for leather?” You asked while he pulled the gear shift.

“You wouldn’t understand, you don’t have a dick,” he responded with a small laugh.

He went backwards, out of the spot. Finally pulling it forward, and began your trip to Wendy's drive through.

He leaned over, and clicked the radio. It started up, on some random news station, and he quickly pulled out his phone. Clicking the bluetooth, and putting on some jazz song you couldn't recognize.

Then you realized that he left his coat and tie at his mother's. He was still in his button up, which was a bit odd.

“You left your coat at your mother's-” you told him, and he processed what you said while putting his phone in a cup holder.

He patted down his body with one hand, and gave a loud groan. “FUCK! And my tie!!”

“Yeahhhh.” 

He clicked his tongue and made a turn. “Whatever,” he grumbled, getting into the city's food and fun area. Meeted with Hotel lights and fast food signs, as well as regular restaurants as well.

“So did you _actually_ like the sauce, or were you trying to piss my mother off,” He turned to you with a slight smile, while he made a turn into the Wendy’s parking lot.

“It was actually good. _Only_ compliment your getting tonight.”

He hummed, and pulled into the line. Putting the car into park, while you two waited. 

The small sense of music, while the dark atmosphere outside was nice, but annoying when you remembered who was in the car.

“I’m paying this time,” you turned to him.

“Cool, gimme your card.” You obliged, and went through your purse. Pulling out a white card, and handing it to him. He examined it.

“Is this the only NON black item you own?” He turned to you.

“I own things that aren’t black!! I’ll have you know, my apartment is red and orange themed!” you declared, crossing your arms.

He took in what you just said. “Wait, _wait._ Apartment?”

“Yess?”

“Aren’t you a millionaire???”

“Yeah?” 

“Wh- How big is it? Square feet,” he asked, making hand motions. 

“Like- I dunno, the living room and kitchen combined are like as big as your mom's office,” you shrugged, leaning into the seat. “My bedroom is as big as the copier room.”

He blinked, and did some thinking in his head. “Size of your bed?”

“Queen.”

“What the _SHIT_ , I thought you were a billionaire and/OR millionaire?!”

“I don’t need big stuff just cause I have the money. It’d get lonely if I bought a giant house and was the only occupant,” you explained.

He turned to the front, and pulled the shift again. Making you guys go forward in the line. 

“Okay okay, so what do you even plan to do with the money???” He asked, leaning on the shift.

“I don’t know, haven’t found use for it... “ You shrugged. “Wait wait, how much do you make a month, I’m wondering how _you_ can afford a penthouse.”

“How do you know I have a penthouse?” He raised an eyebrow.

“You told me when you were getting a new outfit,” He just nodded, and thought about your question.

For much longer than he should’ve.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, and you stared at the idiot.

“How do you not KNOW your monthly pay,” you exclaimed. “Do you just buy stuff? Do you pay taxes?!”

“Uhh, my butler pays my taxes. I usually just spend. What about you?! Ms. I-don’t-exist-on-any-records. do you pay _your_ taxes,” he shot back, pulling the gear shift again. Sending you guys only one car before your order.

You froze up, and looked out the window. This was not something you wanted to talk about. “Well... no-”

“HA! I knew it. You tax evader!” He smirked, pointing at you.

“WELL, I can’t just suddenly start existing! That really suspicious!! So no, taxes are for the weak,” you crossed your arms. Quietly you turned to him, and whispered.

“ _Weak_.”

He just rolled his eyes, and pulled forward once more. "Take that tone," he turned to you, slightly amused, as he rolled down the window and leaned out of it. "Large or Medium."

"Large, we ran out last time."

He leaned out the window of his car, and started ordering. With you in tow, and letting the light breeze from the singular open window seep into your skin. It felt nice.

A relaxing atmosphere, compared to the chaos you just had. And with one of the most chaotic assholes there was at that.

Archer was... ok.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, picking glitter out between my keys: man i hope i can update!!  
> also me: glitter can stay  
> Comments and Kudos are appreciated!!


	10. Call ###

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the old bait and switch... except without the switch!! Well- maybe Archer was a switch, you didn't know or care. (he just had that kinda energy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p: 2/14/2021 | h: 345 | k: 24 | c: 16 | b: 5  
> imagine playing the board game clue with the main crew, idk i think it'd be great.  
> also a bit of a shortie... sowwyyy.. she says: writing 4000+ words

* * *

Leaning over your couch, stretching your body. It was a late Monday. Everyone had decided to ignore the whole- uhm.

 _Dead Italian Man in Bosses Apartment_ incident.

You’d have to start keeping a list of incidents- good god. Last few weeks have been a ride. But you- liked your job. It was nice, and fun. Everyone was shitty, but it was great.

You pulled your phone out, and glanced at the time. 8 pm. You should have dinner soon. Deciding to go through your device before actually doing anything, you leaned into a pillow and started scrolling.

New contacts, old contacts. Your top 3 messages were Krieger, Ray, and Malory. With a sigh, you held your phone to your head. Scrolling through everything. 

Still didn’t have Archers number. Despite hanging out with him on that one Saturday, and somewhat on Friday..

Suddenly, your phone started vibrating with a call and in a sudden shock and panic, it slipped out of your hands onto your face with a loud hit to your skin. You pried it off with a sigh, and rubbed your nose and forehead.

Ow-

Checking the contact, you kept rubbing where your phone had hit. 

It was Ray.

Sitting up and massaging your temples, you clicked the answer button. The phone went to your ear and you hummed. “Yesss?” You answered.

“Oh thought you might’ve been passed out or somethin,” He chuckled on the other side. 

“I don’t go to bed at 7 pm,” you rolled your eyes, and pulled a pillow to your lap. “What do you need man?”

“Girl, you NEED to come over. Me, Lana and a few others are at this bar-” he started.

“Lemme stop ya. I don’t drink, you know this. Sorry Ray,” you frowned.

“That's the THING! They sell juice and water too.”

You paused.

A bar sold… JUICE?? Oh wow what a deal.

How tempting...

“What kind-” you muttered, getting up from the couch to get your shoes.

“Name, get ready. Apple juice, Fruit punch, and... Caprisuns.”

OKAY YOU WERE SOLD. 

Quickly you grabbed your boots, and slipped them on. Holding your phone to your ear, you grabbed your purse and heard shifting on Ray’s side. “I’m on my way, where is it?”

“I’ll text ya the address hun, see you there,” he responded, and hung up quickly as you started to exit the apartment. You shoved your keys into her puse.

Checking your phone you saw the address. Okay it was close. You could- walk. You glanced at the sky.

Walking down the streets of manhattan at night-

I mean you were still a personal badass- but… Car might be best. Going to the parking lot, you hopped into your car.  
God you didn’t know that bars in manhattan sold juice too! Seemed like a steal- maybe some bad parents brought their kids and wanted them to have a little snackie. How nice…

With a turn around the corner you started driving the somewhat empty streets of manhattan. Surprisingly- the places were usually packed.

Only the occasional car, and suspicious figure! Woah… 

Making the needed turn, you glanced at your phone. Looking at the address. Alright- so- you looked up. Seeing the bar simply across the road. Lights illuminating the place, and shining like there was no tomorrow. 

The blue tune of the words _‘Jitterbug’_ laid on the top. Alright, you’d give them that, nice name. Wow- a night with your friends and you weren't even going to be drinking alcohol. The place looked rather large, not gonna lie...

You parked by the front, and took the keys out of the vehicle. You pulled the shift forward, and unbuckled. Grabbed your purse, you opened the door and slammed it behind you.

Alright. First time you’d been at a bar in awhile- like… maybe 2 years- you _had_ before incident one-

Okay, deep breaths. 

You locked your car, and walked onto the sidewalk outside the bar. A sign laid in front. The name was there, as well as _‘free drinks at 3am-3:30’_ which- was actually kinda smart? Depends, a lot of people were tired by 3, maybe people thought they’d make it til then and spend a lot of money beforehand.

Hopefully that applied to apple juice, you were about to go HAM. Time has no sense to you, if they think you will hold back.

Pushing the door open, you were greeted. You gave the name of the people you were planning to hang out with, and the server just seemed confused.

“Uhmm, as of right now we only have 3 bars booked in advance - Manuva, Vega and Figgis,” the cashier lady told you.

Ah, Cyril. “I’m with Cyril Figgis, sorry. I didn’t know it was under his name,” you laughed lightly. The woman nodded, and seemingly wrote down another person would be going to the booked bar.

“Right this way ma’am,” she closed the book, and allowed you to follow. So, this was a large bar AND a restaurant. Good god, Manhattan had everything. 

Nice jazz was playing in the restaurant area, but when you reached the bars you heard the light sound of oldies. Not like the 80's…

No like 20’s oldies. Which- made sense considering the name Jitterbug. Place seemed sweet, very Ray. Place also seemed like it sold juice sooo, ANOTHER win.

She moved the needed velvet out of the way, and allowed you to walk in. There sat Ray, Cyril and Lana all on the bar. Other seats laid on the side, but you didn’t bother to see if anyone else was sitting in there.

**First mistake.**

You gave them a _‘hey’_ , and walked up beside Cyril. He had a… rather worrisome look on his face, but a full drink in front of him. Lana waved at you, and said hi. You two exchanged quick basic greetings, and you turned to Ray.

“Glad you could make it!” Ray smirked.

You looked at the bartender, and raised a finger. “Might I have some apple juice? I’ll pay for any drink I buy,” You asked.

The bartender looked very confused at your words. He set the glass down in front of him, and looked behind him and then at you. In a-boston accent (surprisingly) he told you,-

“Lady, we don’t got no Juice.”

Then, it hit you. It hit you hard, and the guilt in Cyril's face became more apparent. He ran a hand down his face.

They _LIED_ to you.

Very quickly, an arm was thrown around you. A familiar one at that, and a body leaned onto your side.

“Oh my god- you ACTUALLY fell for it!! I told Ray you wouldn’t-” He gave a laugh.

**Mistake two.**

You practically growled, and turned to the bastard. Rather upset. Being baited into a bar with hopes of stuff you actually drank. Good god.

“I’m. Leaving,” you practically hissed to him.

He frowned. “Awee, come on. You’re already here.”

“Name,” Lana started, turning her chair around and a small drink in her hand. “Why don’t you just relax a bit? Just for tonight?”

God damn it.. woman.

You gave a heavy sigh, and threw Archers arm off you. Shooting him a dirty look, while he fixed his shirt sleeve. He looked- not as pristine as usual but still rather clean. Not fully drunk, but still getting to the edge.

You thoroughly regret calling him _‘ok’_.

“So what, I just sit around and watch you guys get drunk?”

“I’m assumin’ that's the plan!” Pam added, looking at you with a smile.

“Great…” You muttered. Cyril turned around too. “I can pick you up a drink you prefer if you’d like,” he offered. “Just a quick drive.”

“I don’t think she likes try-hards dumbass,” Archer added, downing his drink.

You elbowed him, and he choked on his liquid. “That’d be… nice actually. Could you?”

“Yeah, I can,” he smiled, getting up from his seat. Lana simply shot him a look.

You told him your preference, and he put Lana and Ray in charge while he went to go pick up your stuff.

He was escorted, and you looked at the empty reserved bar, only filled with all the usual team members. Ray, Lana, Pam, Archer, You, Krieger, Cheryl, and Cyril being gone.

“Want me to get you a drink?” Lana offered.

“I don’t drink,” you put a hand up, and sighed. “You got water? I’ll still pay,” You asked the bartender. The guy nodded, and got to work the simple glass.

“You’re a buzzkill,” Archer slurred, putting his arm back around your shoulder. You left it there and turned to the idiot. “And you're drunk.”

“Bingo!!”

You laughed lightly, and kept him in place while he drank more. “You guys deal with this everyday?”

“Everyday. _Everyday…_ ” Ray shook his head.

“Yikes,” you chuckled, watching him frown at the empty drink. He gave a loud _‘bullshit’_ , and put the glass down (surprisingly) delicately on the bar table.

The bartender guy took his glass, and slid your water forward. “Want me ta make a tab for ya?” He asked.

You nodded, and he went to refill Archer's drink. Alright…. Somewhat delicately, but still no remorse if he were to fall, you walked him and yourself to the booth that Pam, Kieger, and Cheryl were sitting at. Sliding him into the empty side, across from Pam

He leaned on the wall, and you went to go get your two drinks.

Water in the left, whatever Whiskey in the other; you slid in next to him, across from Krieger. Archer leaned on the wall of the corner you had squished him into.

You slid the drink over, and his eyes lit up.

Yeah, you figured it was the alcohol, no way.

“Oh my god, you're actually being nice!” Pam joked, while you sipped your water. 

“Name’s actually nice sometimes…” Archer began, grabbing his drink as well. “Like uhhh… that one time- when…”

“You don’t remember?” Krieger offered.

“Not off the top of my head no-” He muttered, taking a small drink. You put your glass down. “How about when I helped you kill the Yakuza.”

“I mean you didn’t really have a choice,” Archer muttered more to himself. “And even then you fell off and broke your back, hella useless after that-”

“Nice to know,” you rolled your eyes and leaned on your arm. Sipping the ice water again, and ignoring him trying to recall anything nice you had done.

“Oh!! Oh, I can list assholey things you’ve done!”

“Phrasing!” Cheryl went. “Damn it- But uhm, yeah. There's at LEAST 10.”

“I’m voting 15!” Pam added.

“Do you guys hate me or something,” you asked in some form of shock, kinda hurt at their words. 

Archer started counting on his hands. You watched him loose count over ten times himself. He ran a hand through his hair, and gave a hefty sigh. He tried counting once more, and you watched him reach eleven before he stopped.

“Okay I got a list.”

“I have a list of every time you were a dick,” you shot back.

“Kreiger give me some paper or something…” He made grabby hands to the guy. Quickly he pulled out a folded up sheet from his coat pocket. Archer pulled out his own pen out of his unbuttoned suit.

Archer leaned over the paper and started writing. You tried glancing, but he hid it from you with one hand.

An actual child, he was.

Bunch of scribbles later, he held the paper up. Finger to his chin, he nodded. A shove of pen, he slid the written paper in front of you. His penmanship looked decent, you’d admit. Mix of quick cursive, but the regular writing as well.

You held the paper up properly and began reading.

_1\. Drugging me_

_2\. Shooting a bullet when I didn’t have needed earwear on_

_3\. Yelling at me on the train_

_4\. Getting me arrested for crimes I didn't commit_

_5\. A tax evader_

_6\. Doesn’t play music when driving_

_7\. Makes fun of me for drinking_

_8\. Questioning my monthly pay, when it doesn’t concern you_

_9\. Judging me for getting married within one day_

_10\. Yelled at me in the car_

_11\. Makes fun of me for existing at this point_

You looked up from the paper, and shot him an unamused look. He looked amused unlike you. “Tax evader? Really?” You asked, hitting the paper with one hand. You threw it onto the table. “Is that how you see me?”

“You pay taxes?” Krieger asked, trying to glance at the paper.

“HAHA! See? Paying taxes is for the _weak_ ,” You shot at him. Pam slipped the paper out from under you and started reading it.

"Most of them are accurate, gimme the pen. I got some," Pam smirked. Archer obliged, and threw it over to her. 

Oh my god they had MORE on you? Jesus Christ, the hell..

You watched her scribble down more, with the other two looking over her shoulder to see what she was writing. While Archer sipped his drink, and messed with his fingers on the table. Grabbing little salt packets and fiddling with them while they wrote.

“You want _one_ good thing on you?” Archer asked in a slight whisper, sipping his drink.

“Please, yes. You guys are painting me out to be some douchebag-” You returned, looking at your empty water cup.

He put his cup down and looked slightly to the side. “I mean you are… but- i guess a good thing about you is…” he started thinking.

A much longer pause than was needed.

God damn it he didn’t have anything did he.

Frustrated, you looked to the side. “God if you don’t have anything-” You muttered.

“No, No!! I do, just-” He snapped his fingers. “You’re nicer outside of work. More sweeter,” he told you with a small smile.

Oh.

He actually did have something…

“I guess- thanks…” You responded, looking at your empty cup.

“That's all I get? After I complimented you for the ACTUAL first time??” He asked you, clearly offended.

God this guy's ego was on a whole nother level. You sighed. “Thank you oh mighty Sterling Archer for your _small_ bit of admiration. What did I do to deserve it,” You sarcastically remarked.

“Okay well, if you're gonna be like that-” He muttered, turning away and looking at the wall. What a dick, but at least you knew he had it in him to be kinda nice…

Quickly, said paper was slid in front of you by Krieger. “Okay here’s more.”

Good god, here we go.

_12\. Judges us for doing drugs_

_13\. Judges us for drinking_

_14\. No good taste in music_

_15\. Yells at me for sending dead body pics._

_16\. Hates the tunts_

_17\. Bad taste in favorite musicals._

_18\. Yells at Malory_

_19\. Hates my jokes :(_

You could tell each of their pieces of handwriting apart. Pam had cursive, Krieger was scratchy yet- legible. Cheryl was borderline chicken scratch.

“Thanks,” you muttered, reading over it all. Able to distinguish everything everyone had given you.

These asshats had given you 18 flaws, and a total of- maybe three out of four were based on assumptions and opinions.

Lord.

Archer leaned over your shoulder, and read as well. He looked more amused as well. "These are all factual," he stated.

"You don't even know my favorite musical," you turned to him, seemingly offended. "Bet it's trash."

Deep breaths, deep exhale. You gave him a middle finger, and kept on going over the list. Finally, comprehending the bullshit that was spouted onto the paper…

You decided to explain why a lot of these were wrong...

“Few things; I do not judge you guys for drinking or drugs. As long as you're not abusing it, I could care less, so those two are gone. I never once said I hated the tunts-”

\--

_“AND YOU TUNTS!!” You hissed, leaning over the counter._

_“I fucking hate you tunts, It’s why I killed your grandfather!!” You exclaimed, turning away, clearly angry._

_Cheryl clapped excitedly. “OOO!!! Do me next! Do me next!!” She stared at you with absolute hope in her eyes._

\--

“- Not once. Another thing is, my musical taste is fine. Not everyone has to like Rocky horror Krieger, and I never said I disliked it either.”

He squinted in your direction, and you stuck your tongue out at him. Whatever, if they were gonna be dicks. “Ohhh is Rocky Horror that one movie with Tim Curry and a bunch of orgys??”

“Yeah...” you and Kreiger went.

Lana finally joined the conversation. “What are you guys even talking about??” She asked, walking over and looking over at the table that had a single sheet of paper in the middle and a few drinks.

“Why Name sucks,” Pam told her. Cheryl nodded. “We’re almost at 20 reasons!!” She smiled, tapping the list.

“Wh- why???” Ray asked. “Why not make a list on why Archer sucks.”

“HEY!”

“But everyone already KNOWS why he sucks, he makes it so easy,” Pam retorted.

“REALLY?!”

“I mean she’s not wrong,” you told him, but he just looked offended. Only fair, it really was. He didn’t look amused, but then again he never looked amused with anything you had to say- ever...

After talking with the group, a bit of laughing, and lots of bickering with the local idiots, you got plenty of water refills. The bartender was nice, and the place was empty thanks to Cyril renting the place out.

Which he did eventually return with a small bag. A plastic bottle filled with Apple juice, as well as your favorite candy. 

“Thank youuuu,” you smiled, taking the bag. “I’ll pay you back, just remind me before we leave for me to go to an ATM-”

“No, it’s fine,” Cyril put a hand up. “It’s- a bit fair since we lured you here.”

“I would’ve come anyway, even if there wasn’t juice. It’s nice hanging out with you guys,” you told them, wrapping your hands around the cap.

You strained your hand trying to open it. Pulling, and frowning when you couldn’t. God damn it, you did hand to hand combat, why were you struggling with a goddamn drink.

The group proceeded to watch you painfully open the small drink.

“Do- Do you-” Pam started, but you cut her off. “I’M FINE!”

Quickly, Archer took it from you and popped it open. He slid in in front of you, and lightly laughed. “Weak-ass.”

“Weird words coming from someone who hasn’t beaten me in anything,” you told him, squinting in his direction while you sipped the juice. 

“Is that a challenge?”

“No,” you deadpanned, putting the drink down.

“Coward.” he told you, but you simply rolled your eyes. Continuing to discuss and laugh with your coworkers.

Discussing events before you had come in, from different perspectives. A lot of incidents, lord. Cheryl always had the most obscure things.

Sometimes you guys would separate into two people conversations. You usually talked with Lana, Krieger, or Pam. SInce they were more fun to talk to, and the people you could say you were the most used too.

Amongst the chatter of the group, and the refills, you were all clearly distracted. Archer was practically conked out on the deltoid area of your arm, and you weren’t moving any time soon you knew that. But suddenly, you felt a hand snake near your leg.

Okayyy, you glanced down. Not the tanned hand of the dumbass spy, rather- the _other one._ The hand touched the side of your thigh.

Was- was he serious?

You looked in Cyrils direction, staring him down. Full intent to hurt him based on anything he did next. Drunk Archer simply stayed leaning on your side arm, while you prepared to break a nearby glass on this dude's head.

"Tell me you're just drunk, cause if not there's going to be a problem."

"UHHH-" Cyril sputtered.

Silently, he moved his hand back to his lap and Archer just hummed. "What.... what the dipshit do-??" He said barely.

"Nothing, just go back to sleep dumbass," you told him, sipping the remains of your juice.

"I wasn't sleeping..." He muttered, grabbing his drink.

* * *

God that face- the expression that like… sure you were pissed most of the time but… This was the expression you made before you drugged him and also when that Moto dude brought up Buccilati. 

He was kinda curious what happened, but he was not gonna lie- he had downed more than he would’ve expected. And now his head was kinda spinning, but just barely. So the softness of your clothes would have to do.

You just kinda stopped talking all together, and looked at your drink.

Alrighttt…

“You look like shit,” he told you.

Okay that didn’t come at right. Whoops- but also not whoops. It met the goal, but still- you looked unaffected by it. Damn-

“You’re one to talk,” you didn’t look away from your empty plastic bottle. 

“Okay but you always look bad, and you look worse now.”

“Thank you… so much,” a response dryer than sand.

“You're welcome. Now, why do you feel like shit.”

“Who's buzzkill now?”

“Still you, you look like shit.”

“ _I GET IT_ , I look like shit,” you turned to him finally in a pissed off manner. “I wanna leave. Am I allowed to leave yet?” You asked the borderline drunk man.

He paused, and thought about it. “We were never forcing you to stay.”

A lightbulb seemed to go off in your head. But you didn’t move, and just shook the empty bottle. A nod, and he went back to leaning on your arm trying to balance out his brain.

_“I hate you-” you muttered._

_“The feeling’s mutual.”_

So in the chatter, he stayed on the side while you finally got a refill on water. Tossing the drink, and relaxing into the booth. 

Everything didn’t seem as overwhelming now. Seemingly to both of you, but he’d never be able to tell with you. You were- once more an enigma. 

But you were still annoying as hell, fucking smart ass.

Along to the music in the reserved space, and the soft sofa… you drifted off in the middle of the booth. Where he followed suit, right next to you.

. . .

* * *

[ おまけ: Omake: Bonus / Noncanon…. rimshot]

“Do you guys have any juice?”

“We don’t sell no juice lady,” the bartender frowned.

“Oh okay, then can I have some whiskey,” you told him.

Everyone looked really confused-

\--

“Seriously, you're a total asshole.”

“Wh- I just-”

“ _You suck_ ,” Archer told you.

“You’re not sticking to the script!! You’re only supposed to insult me 2 times- not 6!” You exclaimed, hitting the table.

“Sorry, I just have a long list.”

\--

“Not everyone likes Rocky Horror Krieger,” You told him, and he just rolled his eyes.

“Wh- You don’t like Rocky Horror?!” Archer turned to you, seemingly in shock. “Let me guess. You like Chicago though, AND Avenue Q.”

You and Krieger just stared at him, very confused.

“ _What_.”

“What? Rocky horror is good.”

_“WHAT???”_

\--

[ おまけ: Omake Over ]

* * *

Rubbing your eyes awake, you looked around. Small music playing- were you still at the bar- You turned to the side to see-

A sleeping idiot, with the others gone as well.

Asshats. You glanced at the paper you guys were using, as well as a pen laid beside it. A very clearly written note laid on top of it- but it required you to move your arm.

Which Idiot number one was sleeping on.

Some risks had to be made. You lurched forward to grab it, and very quickly he jolted up. Looking around, muttering to himself.

“Morning... Can you see the time?” You asked the now just waking up spy. He took in what you said rather slowly as he rubbed his eyes.

He looked down at his watch, and yawned. Which you did as well. 

“Its… it’s 2 am..” he sighed, rubbing his head and running a hand through his hair, as exhausted as he was. Slightly hung over, since it was the morning-

“Great-” you muttered, finally finding the will to read the note.

_Dear you two, we kept the bar reserved until 5 am. So hopefully you wake up before then._

_We didn’t want to wake you two, in fear that maybe either of you would shoot us. Thanks for understanding._

_### Pam, Cyril, Lana, Krieger, Ray, Not cheryl._

You glanced at a tired Archer who was reading the note behind you. He swore a bit, before looking at his clock again.

“Ugh- I’m skipping work,” he told you, motioning for you to scoot out of the booth.

“Hold on I gotta pay my tab- and probably yours-” you told him, sliding out. Regaining your balance as well.

You strained your body, and walked up to the working bartender, and slid your card to him. He took it, and as you proceeded to pay for his drinks and your water; he slipped out, barely slipping and leaning on the base of the booth.

The man returned the card, thanked you two- and you both towed out of the restaurant/bar area. He fixed his jacket and-

Rain. 

Thank god for taking your car, but he simply ran a hand down his face in annoyance. You looked around, looking for his dodge but could only recognize your red car. Plus he was drunk so- maybe it would be best.

“Want a ride?” You yawned, and he just sighed.

“Yeah…”

You clicked your car’s unlocked button, and watched the bright red lights reflect onto all the puddles and the dark. Both of you clearly unamused and tired. “Stay right here, you won’t have to get wet-”

He nodded, and crossed his arms. Very quickly, you ran out into the rain. Opening the door, and slamming it shut. A quickly buckled, and a click into the vehicle with the keys.

You backed out, and pulled up at the front, right by him and the passenger door on his side. Very quickly, he took a step forward, and jumped in.

A slam of the door, and barely wet unlike you- he buckled with a sigh. He leaned into the leather of your car, probably ready to sleep again.

Silently, you backed out. Having the radio at one, and- deciding to actually play a channel. You went to one labeled Jazz- and a click on the wheel and a few dials.

The piano, and it seemingly hit Archer that you were playing music, but he just leaned back into the seat quietly. “Hey- Archer , I need your address,” you told him, slightly hitting his arm.

“Hm-” he looked up, and groaned. “Right- Dynamite street… The large complex that has red drapes up front- and grey and junk…”

Alright you could work with that, you typed in Dynamite street into your phone. Watching him pass out again, and driving silently.

He leaned on the side of your car door, and stayed silent…

You both were more than exhausted it seemed.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dunkin donuts drivethru lady: why this lady here again, this is the fourth cheesecake milkshake she's bought  
> Comments and Kudo's are appreciated!!


	11. Country Hick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HOW MANY GODDAMN CAR RIDES WILL YOU BE OFFERED. The answer is: no. Go away. Virginia doesn't exist. Most people forget it exists, unless they live there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p: 2/20/2021 | h: 426 | k: 26 | c: 19 | b: 5  
> head empty, head empty. also now i'm like PRETTY sure updates are on saturdays and sundays, can't promise- but im hopeful.

* * *

Leaning over the balcony, you looked down at the mess below it all. The guards by the front door, and the large gate. The pale and brown home you were laying on. You quickly hopped onto it, sitting down on the edge and looking down with your hands in your lap.

And of course, the Italian moonlight on you. Inside, a person playing the piano. A friend of yours danced to it, and it really was lovely. Yet if you were to fall, things might change

Suddenly, a hand was put on your shoulder. 

You turned slightly, to see one of your bosses. “Enjoying the view?” He asked, practically towering over you. The height of him compared to others, he was always the highest. Practically 7 feet if you had to guess, but he had told you he was in the six foot somehow.

“Yeah…” You muttered, turning away from the black and white figure. 

“You look stressed _caro_ ,” he stated, rubbing your shoulder lightly. “Is it the view? I can get one of the boys to clean it up.”

“I don’t mind it _padrone_ , don’t stress **\----** out more, _lavora troppo_ ,” you told him, resting your hands on the balcony. “I was just thinking.”

“About?”

You paused- looking closely at the cars pulling up to the side. You assumed it was **\----** or **\----**. “Life. The usual.”

He hummed. “It's stressful, no?” You continued on, leaning on your bosses hand. “I’m just thinking about- if I just continued to go to school normally… and I didn’t just accept that offer. Doesn’t that count as- exploiting a child??”

“Well, I think Keiji was satisfied with your answer. You are rather successful,” he told you. You simply scoffed. “In what? Killing people? Yeah a lot of people do that, there are prisons for them, and they die there.”

“Suppose that's true,” he responded, but put both hands on your back. “But you don’t get caught.”

“That's my job. Not to get caught.”

Another deep breath, and you leaned into him fully. Watching **\----** exit the car with **\----**. Having their IDs checked, and entering the gate. Stepping over the bodies, both of them looked up to see you at the edge. A wave with a smile, and they entered the mansion.

“I’m going back to Japan.”

And before he could respond-

**_You woke up._ **

To dumb- loud ringing nonetheless- god damn it.

Maybe if you ignored it, it’d go away. That always works in the movies- You turned away from wherever the noise was coming from and draped your blanket over you.

You tossed and turned in your bed, hearing the ringing of god knows what. You couldn’t tell if it was your phone, or if it was your alarm and it was finally 7. There was NO way it was seven, it was still dark out- sun was barely coming up.

The ringing continued- and continued.

Quickly, you went to look at your alarm. 2 in the morning. Lord- you grabbed your phone and looked at the contact. 

Lana.

What could she need at THIS time. With a yawn, you clicked the answer button and put it to your ear, and leaned on the headboard of your bed.

“Are you ok… is there like some-” You started, very tired tone.

“NAME!!” A yell came from the other side, NOT Lana’s voice. You jolted up at the sounds to sit up properly, and you huffed. “ _Archerrrr_ , I’m tired,” you whined.

“I’m _fully_ aware, I am as well. We just need you to come over, someone broke into ISIS and is in the weaponry room,” he told you, sounds of walking down a street could be heard.

“Do it yourself, you’re with Lana aren’t you?” You plopped back into your pillow with the phone at your ear.

“Okay but we’re a trio!”’ He protested.

“No, we’re not. That's you, Cyril, and Lana. Goodnight,” your fluffed the pillow.

“Get out of bed,” he yelled once more, and you flinched. You groaned, and put the phone on speaker, setting it on your bedside. “I hate you, sooo much,” you whined again.

“Don’t worry I do too, we’ll be in the front,” but he didn’t hang up, and just stayed on the call. While you shifted through your closet, you grabbed a shirt and a pair of flexible leggings, and shimmied your way into them.

Grabbing a holster, wrapping it around your waist, and slid a gun into both sides. Putting extra loads to the side as well, you threw a thin jacket on, and grabbed your phone; seeing he was still on.

“Yeah, ok I’m on my way,” you huffed, grabbing your keys, and unlocking the door. “Great!! Trio ti-”

“WE ARE NOT A TRIO!” You practically yelled, before remembering you were in a lobby- and people were sleeping. Quickly hanging upm you shoved your phone into a pocket, and jumped down the flight of stairs.

You opted not to use your car, you didn’t want it getting ruined- so you started speed walking down the streets to get where you needed to get. Looking at the time, and concluding running might be best.

Making your way around the corners, you- really wished… running on buildings was legal here. Alas- cliches weren’t allowed. Dumb spies and laws.

Finding the last road, you made another turn to see the two waiting by the door. You jogged up, and immediately punched Archer in the shoulder.

“OW!” He turned to you, rather upset.

“What you get for waking me up, you two would’ve been able to do this by yourself, without me, and I would’ve been able to sleep!!” You hissed.

“I actually asked for you here,” Lana turned to you. You immediately lit up. “Oh okay, that’s fine.”

“HOW- How is it fine when she does it,” Archer protested, and you shot him down. “Cause I like Lana.”

“Yeah, I can _tell_ ,” he squinted, pushing the door open with one hand, since it was already unlocked from the break in. “I’ll remember that next time I drive you somewhere,” he muttered.

All three of you went to the elevator, clicking in the weaponry elevator number, and waiting in silence. All three of you loaded your guns, and kept them prepared.

“Okay so- Plan is we just sneak on them and shoot,” Archer started, in a- loud voice… damn it, you were gonna get a headache this early.

“Thats dumb,” you told him. “Did I ASK?” He asked, as you three walked outside the elevator and into the little room thing. 

“Wait, here's an idea: you talk louder, and maybe they'll just come to us!” Lana sarcastically remarked, looking at you two. Archer rolled his eyes.

“We'd lose the element of surprise Lana,” He stated like it was obvious. Lord- it was barely even 4 in the morning.

“That was sarcasm!” She hissed, as you three approached the door.

Archer collected what she just said, and attempted to make a recovery. “No way, _really_? Because so was that, just now.”

“Will you BOTH, hush,” you muttered, taking the safety off. “I have money bet that it’s someone we know, and they’re about to get shot, I’m not taking any risks.”

“If it’s Krieger can I shoot with intent to kill?” Archer asked.

“Yes,” you two went.

Finally at the metal, you glanced inside the dark room. Nothing you could properly see, but behind you- Archer pulled you down slightly to look into the slit of the window. Douche. You shook his hands off your shoulders, and fixed your position.

“Okayyy if they're in the armory- then,” Lana started, moving you both at the same time.

“Good, then we got 'em, this is the only way out,” Archer smirked.

“Of the armory,” Lana repeated to the moron. He took in her words again. “I heard you. And I can also read, so-” He stated, motioning to the sign to the side of the door.

“So what's in the armory?” Lana continued.

He continued to think, rubbing his chin. “Uhh- Burglars, Lana, that's why I'm here and not sleeping.”

She sighed deeply. “Name, what else is in the armory?”

“Weapons. Every weapon we use to work-

“So what? So what if there's a bunch of automatic weapons, rocket launchers, um, about a jillion grenades,” he stopped. “Oh... They _may_ have fire superiority.”

“Ya think?” Lana hissed, and he just rolled his eyes.

“Lana, for all we know they're building a gundam-suit with bazookas for hands. Besides we got the best spy in the world, and the worst assassin in the world,” He motioned to you, and you crossed your arms before you took in his sentence.

“You watch gundam?” You raised an eyebrow with a small smile. He paused, and stared at you for more than he should’ve. 

“....No.” 

“Mhmm,” you smirked, and he just looked at his gun. “Why couldn’t just- bring Cyril. Oh ew, I take it back… what the hell would he do.”

“More than you-” Lana ignored your remark to him and went on. “Are you ready?”

“No. _Sarcasm again_ , yes I'm ready,” He laughed to himself, and you hit him upside the head. He gave a low _‘ow’_ , before kicking the door open harshly.

He ran in, and after an exchange of exhausted glances- you and Lana both ran in as well. He stopped in front of the ladder, in the dark… no light. But someone was on top of it.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Lana yelled.

You clicked the side light of the weaponry, and aimed your gun. “Nothing!” Archer went. “ARCHER!”

All three of you looked up top- There stood Ray, frozen like a deer in headlights. Holding ISIS weaponry. 

Where was his wheelchair-

“What! The hell are you doing?” Archer exclaimed, making hand motions.

“Nothin. What're y'all doing?” He waved it off like it was nothing, and fixed his position on the gun.

“The alarm company called us because the motion sensors were going off,” Lana squinted in his direction.

Ray turned to the side, and cursed to himself.

Lana crossed her arms and continued. “Yeah, the rest of us got new keycodes Monday, but you were... where was it?”

He held onto the ladder more. “P-Physical therapy.”

“For your limp, broken legs?” You raised an eyebrow.

Archer crossed his arms. “Well it's obviously working, you're on a-” He paused, and stared at Ray’s legs. “Wait a minute...How the hell are you walking around on ladders?!”

“HE’S NOT PARALYZED!” You and Lana exclaimed.

Ray gasped, and put a hand to his chest. “And is that not the stuff of miracles?”

“You lying little--” Lana stared him down.

“I never said I was paralyzed! Y'all just assumed I was!” Ray explained, leaning off slightly. 

“Because you left the hospital in a wheelchair!!” Archer motioned to him in an angry manner.

You hadn’t been there for the incident, but based on previous information… Archer became a pirate and ruined Ray. Body wise- which made sense. It was _Sterling Archer_. Everyone looked aggravated.

More and More bickering between everyone…

“So before I kick this ladder over in the hopes of paralyzing you for real, why are you in here stealing guns and grenades and what better not be my night vision goggles?!” Archer hissed, grabbing the ladder.

Ray quickly adjusted his position, and held on tighter. “Come on stop! Listen I kinda have some family problems,” he started walking down it. Jumping down to the three of you, he put the gun in his hand back to the shelf.

“Shoot, your brother?” Lana asked. “The drug dealer-”

Ohh, okay it was going to be THAT kinda mission. Yeah no, you were out.

“He’s not a drug dealer!! He’s a drug farmer!”  
“Same thing,” you and Archer responded.

“Whatever, is gonna be murdered by your hometown's crooked sheriff?” Lana continued, putting her hands on her hips.

Ray nodded. “E.Z. Ponder, yes, and he used to bully me so bad in high school…” he trailed off.

Archer feigned a gasp. “Ohhh nooo… bullies,” he remarked. “Ray, that was sarcasm.”

You hit his shoulder, and he muttered an _‘ow’_ before shooting you a look.

He rolled his eyes, and looked at the duffel back he had stolen. “Anyway, he wants Randy's dope farm for himself or he's gonna kill him, so I gotta go down there and... stop him,” Ray muttered.

Archer took a deep breath. “Some sacrifices shall be made. Count me in.”

“Why??” Lana turned to him, and Ray nodded seemingly agreeing.

He scoffed. “Well for one thing it's eerily similar to the plot of White Lightning. And this is Ray's brother, Lana. What's more important than family!”

“Coming from the man with a gaslighting mother,” you eyed him.

“I will- absolutely ignore that and play it as you being a tired bitch.”

“You knowww, I feel like Getting hammered on moonshine and trying to bang skanky trailer-chicks is more of your style,” Lana crossed her arms.

Archer looked confused. “ Trying or doing?”

“Oh, that reminds me. They all think I'm married to, like, a woman, so…” Ray looked to the side, and Lana deeply sighed. “Oh alright, I’ll be your wife.”

The two guys started laughing to themselves, before Ray continued. “What're you, insane? _‘Hey y'all, here's my great big ol' black wife!_ ’”

“Yikes,” you hissed.

“Yeah Lana, you’re gigantic!” Archer added.

“You know…” Lana went to reach for one of the weapons, before she was stopped by you. A shake of a head, and she stopped reaching for it.

“So I really need to leave today, cause it’s gonna be a long trip.”

“How long?” Archer asked, putting his gun away finally.

“7 hours, could be more,” Ray shrugged.

Archer did an absolute double take. “You knowwww-”

“Nope, you’re going now,” Lana turned to him in an aggravated manner.

He gave a deep sigh, and crossed his arms. Okay, be like that.

Guess it’ll be a quiet day in the office, which was a rarity and nothing but hopeful. Thank god….

* * *

Throwing a passed out Cheryl into the back of the car, he huffed.

Jesus, more things to do- Everything was always like this. But hey, moonshine.

Always a win in his book.

Lana was already inside, and you were helping pack bits of your _own_ weaponry so that Malory wouldn’t be suspicious of things leaving. You threw a rifle into the backseat, and dusted your hands.

“Jesus,” Archer muttered, fixing his shirt. “Where do you store all your shit?”

“In my bedroom closet, by all my outfits.”

“Fun,” he muttered, slamming the back door shut. Still a bit early, more 4-5 now. You hadn’t changed unlike him or Lana. Just a large holster still around your waist.

Ray hopped into the driver seat, and threw a hat on. “Alright, lets go Archer, we got a bit of a drive. 7 hours”

“Gimme a minute,” he put a finger up, and turned to you. “Hey you sure you don’t have a helicopter we can take orr-”

“I have to order one of those,” you lightly laughed, putting your hands in your legging pockets. “Although- maybe having me on speed dial would be helpful.”

“I am fully capable by _myself_ -” 

He watched you pull out a cut up sheet of paper and a pen. “Here, I’ll give you my number,” you said with a smile.

He blinked, and looked at your scribbling down writing.

“I thought you hated me?”

“I do, but it’s somewhat died down-”

Oh- oh my god. Really? You literally had hit him in the shoulder more than 3 times that morning.

But anyways- He finally got the privilege- to have YOUR number. 

He didn’t want it, but it’d been like 2 weeks too late. He was so used to using literally anyone else's phone to contact you. And you didn’t seem to mind either.

But Ray and Lana WERE complaining.

He watched delicately write your number down, and hand him the paper. “If you need anything, I’ll come help. I know how shitty you are at your job,” You told him, slipping the pen away in a pocket.

God he hated you. “ _So funny_ , I’ll keep that in mind when I’m prank calling you,” he retorted, looking down at the scrap.

You put a hand up, and waved to him with a turn. “Well have fun in Alabama,” you smirked.

Ray leaned out the car. “It’s Virginia you _prick_!!” He yelled at you. You just laughed lightly, and turned around holding an arm up as a goodbye.

Archer returned it, but obviously- you couldn’t see it unless you turned around. But in doing so-

The little slip flew out of his hands due to the wind, and he immediately turned to the side in a small shock to see it fly through the streets.

“Fuck-” he exclaimed, watching you already enter the building and scanning your card. And with that, your number was gone- and so were you.

God damn it. He could ask you for it again- or Ray but…

You’d both make fun of him or something- and that was already annoying as it was. The elevator finally left, and it took you with it-

“Stop staring dumbass, come on,” Ray honked the horn, and he cringed at the noise. Turning around, and hoping into the truck.

He could get it another time.

* * *

“You ready?” Krieger smirked. You adjusted the goggles on your face, and gave him a thumbs up with an excited smile and nod.

“Great!” He returned the smile, and stood beside you with the remote. “Will you do the honors?” He offered. You pressed the button- and the machine started working.

You didn’t even know what it was supposed to do!!

You assumed the pig was supposed to be killed- but he just started running on the treadmill, working the wires and other things to the side.

But that spark of hope died, when the thing caught on fire.

The two of you watched the thing be set ablaze in a mere few seconds. You blinked, and the two of you watched the fire grow. Quickly, Cheryl poked her head into the room.

“I SMELLED SMOKE AND FEAR!!!” She exclaimed, leaning in.

You and Krieger exchanged looks, before smiling and laughing to yourselves. He pressed another button on the remote, and the sprinklers went off. Assumingly only in the said room. While Cheryl stood in the doorway.

“I smell ham-” she told you two.

The fire went out, and the dead pig laid on the treadmill. You eyed it quietly while Krieger cleaned up the area and burnt items of his lab.

“You guys down for bacon and pancakes?” He asked, picking the animal up with his arms. Motioning to the creature. “I got mix in the side room.”

You smiled, and turned to the closet. While Cheryl giddily agreed. Making your way to the closet while Krieger threw the large pig onto the table, he pulled out his burners and a pan. Looking through the closet.

That's how an early lunch/late breakfast was made.

And so the pig was skinned, and bacon and pancakes were made. But you guys needed syrup- sooo. Might as well ask the office. Making your way out of the lab, you went to the offices. 

First was Cyril.

“Cyrilll-” You sang, poking your head into his door.

He turned from his computer. “Hm? Yeah?” He asked, fixing his posture and his glasses. “What do you need?”

“Do you have any syrup?” You asked.

He did a double take on your words, and blinked. “Why- Why would I have syrup.”

“Well, me and Krieger made pancakes and bacon. But the pancakes need syrup, and Cheryl likes syrup on her bacon, so I was asking, cause we need syrup,” you explained, motioning with one hand.

He put a finger to his desk. “No- I don’t think I have any syrup in the office,” he muttered.

“Damn,” you snapped. “Thanks anyway!” You waved him off, and went to the next office.

“PAM!” You exclaimed, leaning into her room.

“Yeah?” She returned in the same tone, looking at you. “Whatcha need?”

“You got any syrup? Me and Krieger made pancakes and bacon!”

“OO!” She smiled, and quickly pulled out a bottle of syrup from her drawer. “Krieger makes the best pancakes, I keep this just in case.”

You fist bumped the air, and the two of you were getting ready to head back to the lab- before Lana stopped you two. “Hey where’s Krieger,” she asked.

“Making pancakes, I got Syrup,” Pam motioned to the bottle. She ran a hand down her face with a sigh.

“Damn it- Pam I thought you were helping me.”

“I was. But then Name said Krieger was making pancakes, so now I have priority.”

Lana turned to you, and you just blinked. “What? I missed breakfast.”

“Well, I need Krieger, Malory might start catching on and I need him to pretend to fix the mainframe….” Lana looked to the side.

“Oh, are we still covering for Ray?” You asked, taking one more step backwards, in hopes of getting pancakes.

“Yes, we are. And Archer,” she told you.

“Oh ew.”

“Just-” She made hand movements. “Just get me Krieger.”

Reluctantly, you and Pam went into the lab. Walking in on Cheryl on the counter, and Krieger flipping a perfect circular pancake. “Took you guys long enough! I made plenty-”

“Lana needs you,” You motioned to the door.

He frowned. “Might I ask whyyy?”

“No,” you and Pam went unanimously. He huffed, and flopped the pancake onto the side plate. Which was stacked with multiple same sized pancakes. “Fine, take that tone-”

He left, and you and Pam glanced at the pancakes. Quickly, you two grabbed paper plates and stacked about 3 mini pancakes onto each of your plates.

A drizzle of syrup, and a grabbing of plastic forks and knives, you took your first bite.

Oh my god it WAS amazing…

Both Cheryl and Pam were enjoying their meals, while you opted to go see what Lana was going to ask of Krieger. 

You quietly peeked into the room where Malory, Lana, and Krieger were. You took a step in, and Lana shook her head in Malory's direction.

“Who knows? ODIN, the KGB, um…” She trailed off, leaning off the computer.

“Actually-” Krieger started.

But she cut him off. “But this'll take hours so we'll just bring you a report when he's done!!” “Actually-” “KRIEGER! More type less gripe.”

Malory turned to you. “Why aren’t you on the mission with Sterling! He could be in danger!”

She finished eating the bit of pancake in your mouth, and stabbed the fork into the poor pancake. “Cause I’m not allowed too.”

“Well- There might be some EXCEPTIONS!” She exclaimed.

“Okay well. I didn’t wanna get in trouble. So I’m having pancakes. I’m sure he’s fine,” you shrugged, picking the fork up again.

Malory huffed, and turned to all of you. Saying she expected answers SOON, rather than later. And with that she left. 

Krieger finally spoke, in an annoyed tone. “And since there's nothing in these logs, I too would like some answers.”

“Soooo- here’s the thing,” Lana clicked the turn off button of the computer.

After thoroughly. Explaining, and convincing… Krieger was now in on the whole situation regarding Ray.

Whoopie.

. . .

* * *

[ おまけ: Omake: Bonus / Noncanon….oink]

“Fineee, I guess I’ll be your wife Ray,” you sighed, dramatically looking to the side.

Archer and Ray exchanged glances, and Ray hissed. “Sorry hun, you ain’t exactly- wife material.”

You turned to him, seemingly offended. “WHAT-?!”

“Yeah, I’d never marry you,” Archer added, crossing his arms.

A gasp, and you put your hand to your chest. “Wh- I’d make a great wife!!”

\--

“Well, where is Sterling?!” Malory huffed.

You looked at the computer. “In Virginia?”

Immediately everyone turned to you, visually upset you just outed the whole mission. You turned away from the computer and blinked. “What? Archer outed me for drugging him, it’s only fair.”

“That was like- two MONTH ago-” Lana exclaimed.

“I know, it’s only fair.

\--

Leaning over the counter, and eating your pancakes… your phone went off. MULTIPLE times in a row. Good lord. 

unknown - [ OH my god, there are so mbay drugs here ]

unknown - [ NAME! Jesus crhist, ray is an actuall child and country-anier ]

What the hell was an country-anier- 

What was with all the fucking.... horrible spelling.

WAIT WAS THIS ARCHER?!

\--

You watched him accidentally let go of your number. As the paper flew off, you stared him down. “That wasn’t part of the script.”

“Okay, but it's happened like- 100 times now, I can’t get a grip on it,” he exclaimed. Ray honked the horn. “HURRY UP!”

“Archer, just give me your number instead, I can actually keep it-”

“Oh my god fine,” he patted his body down for a pen. Nothing. “Can I-”

“Nevermind, Jesus,” you turned around, walking to the door. “NO DAMN IT, THEN THE PLOT CHANGES-”

\--

“You Ray’s wife-?” His brother asked.

You nodded, and put your hands behind your back. “Married for almost 2 years in counting.” Ray ran a hand down his face in annoyance.

“Coulda sworn you were his-” He motioned to Archer. 

You two exchanged looks, and the two of you burst into laughter. Wiping the tear from your eye, you kept giggling to yourself. “HA! Oh my GOD! _**No**_.” 

\--

[ おまけ: Omake Over ]

* * *

You were borderline, ready to sleep.

After Pam outed everyone that was in on it in the office, and a lot of yelling and sneaking out so you wouldn't be yelled at THAT much. You could use a break.

Fricken Pam...

Borderline, about to sleep. You woke up hella early, and the past 1-2 months have been fun yet stressful. You didn’t have to deal with Malory today, thank god but… still...

Leaning over your couch, you sighed. A rather, eventful yet uneventful day. You had fun, you wouldn’t lie.

It was nice talking with your friends. Running a hand down your face, you looked at your television. 

It was blank, and with a huff you looked at the window that led to your balcony. Right by your living room. Getting up, you pushed the windowed door, and was met with the night time breeze as usual.

The other streets as well as buildings, fully lined up. You rubbed the metal, and glanced at all the bright windows.

You looked at your silent phone. No background, just the time. Suddenly, it rang. The contact of Ray being shown. You clicked accept, and held it to your ear.

“Hey, you guys on your way back?” You asked.

“Yeah, we got a WHOLE story for you hun,” Ray told you. You heard mumbling from the other side, and some yells. “Archer wants to talk to you.”

“Pffft, why? He has my number.”

A pause. Some more muffled speech. “He said his phone died- Bullshit! You were just on it!” “Ray just let me TALK to her, I’m exhausted!!”

“Do _YOU_ want to?” Ray asked you. This time you paused, and looked at the large city. “Yeah, I don’t mind.” 

“Ray give me your phone-” you heard him mutter. You leaned over your apartment balcony. Looking down at all the ground. 

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he said after you.

…

...

A long pause, you heard shifting and the wind blowing on his side. A deep breath, and exhale. You assumed he heard the same wind you were hearing. “What're you doing?” he asked finally.

“Looking out at my Balcony. It’s dark.”

“Enjoying the view?” He asked. 

Ah… you’ve experienced this before- from where though…

“Yeah,” you responded, leaning onto the device, and turning around. Your back to the metal railing, and looking at the inside of your apartment. 

“You sound extra- stressed and pissy.”

“You sound more exhausted and stressed.”

“Of course,” he responded, and another paused. “What are you thinking about?”

“It doesn’t concern you,” you responded immediately.

“Sheesh, I’m trying to make ACTUAL conversation and you’re being a dick,” he sighed. You lightly laughed, and fixed the phone's position.

“I’m thinking about life. The usual.”

“It sucks doesn’t it? Probably for you, not for me though,” he mumbled the last bit, and you simply sighed. “I’m just thinking about my job.”

“Is that like- your only personality trait? Thinking about work? Don’t you have any hobbies??” He asked.

“No,” you responded. He didn’t answer you this time. 

“How long have you been working?” You asked instead.

“Uhhh- I started it maybe in my- 20’s? I tried college, then mother pulled me out. Tried the military, and she pulled me out. So, I guess maybe like 10-15 years?” 

“Why’d she pull you out,” you asked, leaning more, looking at the long fall.

“Don’t know-” he responded. Clearly avoiding it. Alright, that was fair- you two were barely even friends. Leaning towards frenemies. 

“How long have you?” He asked.

“25 years. I started when I was 6,” you responded. He hissed. “Yikes, so you were like- an actual baby when you first killed someone?”

“Eh, I trained the first 4 years, mostly infiltrating… I killed my first person when I was 10. It was a big celebrity that made kid toys, so I snuck in, and just- pow! Right in the head,” you make a fake explosion noise, and he chuckled.

“Sounds shitty. I was right, your life does suck.”

“That's rich coming from you, I swear every time I talk to your mother, I wonder how you live and or deal with being related to her.”

He simply hummed.

...

Maybe a minute of doing nothing. A minute of silence, and you asked him a question.

“Why’d you call?”

He clicked his tongue. “For fun.”

“For fun?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. You’re fun, you just don’t like showing it.”

You smiled lightly, and turned to the sky once more. He obviously couldn’t see you enjoying the call but- 

“How’s West Virginia, Archer?”

He sighed on the other side. "Tiring..."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> badum tsss... we gottaaa [playlisttt](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6pbCNgRID1PszdXKoK8Ccm) nowww  
> Comments and Kudo's are appreciated!!!


	12. Raid at the Morgue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and a couple of dumbasses need to retrieve something off a corpse. Morgues are NOT understanding, in any sense or way. Neither are cryptic germans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p: 2/21/2021 | h: 438 | k: 26 | c: 23 | b: 5  
> thanks so much for the support!! it's super helpful, and amazing! hope you guys are having a great day

* * *

Looking at your closet, you hummed. Putting a finger to your chin and thinking about what would work BEST at a morgue. Sure black, you had plenty of that but recently you were leaning more towards darker shades of grey. 

Like an anchor or lead shade… maybe slate…

But once more you were going to a morgue. You held the phone to your ear, and started going through each shirt, skirt, jean, and legging you had. 

“Sooo, opinions on gray?” You asked Krieger, picking a shirt off the hanger.

“Uhm- I can’t really imagine you in anything but BLACK,” he responded, a crash of things hitting the floor on his side. You can imagine him just sliding it all off with no care.

Picking a much lighter color than usual, a tank top at that, you eyed it. “Are morgues cold? Ok- I know their cold, but HOW cold.” He clicked his tongue. “Uhmm- freezing usually. Keep the bodies preserved.”

You blinked, before putting the phone on speaker and setting it on the dresser in your closet. Slipping your shirt off, you put the tank top on. Examining yourself in the mirror... Before grabbing a pair of tight leggings and putting those on as well.

Jumping up to a higher shelf, you grabbed a thin holster, and wrapped it around your waist. One gun, stun gun, and light drugging items. Of course extra rounds.

“Okay so-- what's the EXACT temperature.”

“Jesus christ, Name, why would I know that,” he responded, clicking on his computer. “14 fahrenheit and below.”

You clicked your tongue and hissed. A quick snatch of a thin jacket, and you threw it on as well. Can’t have too many things keeping you down. “I can actually feel you putting on the bare minimum,” Krieger told you dryly.

“I mean- It can’t be THAT cold.”

“Lana and Archer are wearing turtlenecks.”

“Because of its branding, my branding is doing it quickly so I can go home and have a cup of hot chocolate.”

“Innnn the spring.”

You rolled your eyes, and turned off your closet light while grabbing your phone. Off speaker, and back to your ear. “Yes, in _spring_. If it’s 14 degrees, I will be very cold-”

“Which is on you, so I don’t want any complaining over the com,” He clicked once more. You grabbed your boots, and put both of your feet into them quickly. Grabbing your keys, you slipped them into your pocket.

“Okay I’m on my way,” you opened your door, and turned off your room lights. A turn of the bottom lock, and a quick close. “You know, I always wondered why you live in an apartment. Full of people, that can see you carrying weaponry.”

“Company. I have this lady next door. She brings brownies sometimes whenever she doesn't see me come home until REALLY late.”

“Ah, of course. Sweets, your _one_ weakness.”

“Exactly,” you nodded, exiting the complex. “Okay, a run down again pleasee-”

“Awe, you said it so nicely,” he joked on the side. You hopped into your car, and inserted the keys. Putting him on the car speaker, and fixing your seat. 

“You guys are stealing some rare jewelry that was stolen BEFORE you guys were stealing it. Then we’re gonna turn it in to that one guy that creeps you out,” He explained, while you backed out.

“Ugh ew, I hate that dude. What was his name again??”

“You called him dipshit, but his name is Amory Krause,” Krieger huffed. “And yeah he is gross, but just drop your car off at the office, and Cyril will drive you four to the area. I’ll help you if needed.”

“Coolio, while I’m gone, shoot that Amory dude please,” you hummed.

You heard him move, and hit a wobbly piece of plastic. “Cann do.” And with that, he hung up while you drove down the streets.

\--

Walking in room after room looking for gems and jewelry. You and Lana had gone your separate ways, and decided to split up fully. The place was indeed freezing, but you forgot your jacket in the car so…

Everyone else was in covering clothes, while you; miss dumbass, opted for a tank top for flexibility. Which sure, was good THEN… but now? Nope. 

Next room- much less cold than the others...

Unzipping the body of one of the patients, you looked at the corpse. Looking anywhere for what you guys were looking for. Looking at the fingers, the neck. Opening the mouth with your finger, and looking for fillings. An piercings-

Absolutely nothing. Just a corpse.

Zipping it back up, you moved the rolley table. Going to the next body and doing the same. An unzip, and a scan.

Finding a ring, you smiled. Slipping the diamond off, unaware of what it might’ve been. Or who was behind you. 

When you zipped the body back up, someone from behind tackled you. 

Pushing you down, and making the ring jump out between your fingers. Being held down from behind was uncomfortable, and quickly you pushed the person off. Going for your gun and trying to unclip it from the side.

Right as your shaky hands unclipped the button, the person pushed you down again. Holding you down by your wrists, and a knee stuck between your thighs. You shook, and attempted to shove the person off. Very panicked, and not used to being pinned down so quickly at that simply made it worse.

They simply held you tighter, taking both of your hands and holding them with one hand right above your head. Going to grab a weapon. First mistake, but you were still a bit jumpy. Quickly, your knee flew up and kicked the person. 

Shoving them to the floor, you put your foot on their stomach harshly. You glanced at the knife in their hand, and went to your gun.

Cocking it, and shooting twice in the head. Twice in the chest. Blood spurting just about everywhere, and you realized... you had grabbed the wrong gun before you left.

But you continued, using up the 4 on the body. Then reloading, and using those 8 bullets. Every bullet you shot, the blood spurted upward before pooling below. And everytime, it landed straight on you since you were too close.

Obviously this person was dead now… but-

Looking at your blood covered hands, you slightly shivered. 

Was it the fear? When was that last time you were… _scared-_ scared.

Was it the cold? You couldn’t take your eyes off the splatter covering you. Your bare arms, your hands, your face partially and neck. It was on your outfit, but it was too dark to be seen on the fabric.

Glancing at the mutilated body, and then back at your hands. Still shaking.

Had the room gone darker?

Back to the body?

Before suddenly a hand came to your shoulder. Quickly, you elbowed the person that was behind you and aimed the gun into their forehead after finding it despite the previous dissociating. No bullets but they didn’t know that-

“OW! WOAH- WOAH-” You heard the idiots' protests.

You blinked… Focusing finally, and seeing Archer with his hands up. “Jesus- you are covered.”

You looked back down at yourself. But rather than panicking again, you lightly laughed. “Phrasing...”

God what had this group done to you. But you were still shaking.

He put his hands down, and snapped. “ _Damn-_ Seriously though, what happened??” He glanced at the body.

You removed the gun, and turned to the shot dead body. “I uh… stood too close, and picked up the wrong gun…”

He took a finger, and wiped a long line of the blood off your arm. “Sheesh, remind me not to be around you during a rampage.”

You chuckled, and put your gun away. Letting the blood soak in, and opting to to wipe it later- save it for later. “I don’t rampage, I might get upset a lot, but I don’t rampage.”

“Yeah, say that to Freddy Krueger, man has so many holes in his body,” Archer eyed the guy again, before shaking it off. “Anyway, Lana wanted me to get you,” he motioned to your- bloodied body.

You sighed, and wiped a part of your cheek. Which just made it worse, god damn it- your hand had more blood on it than your face. Before shivering again. Not at the fear, but more around the fact it was freezing.

Following Archer, the two of you left the one room. 

Passing a set of doors, until he motioned for you to follow inside one near the very end of the hallway. A slip in through the doors, and there was Cyril examining a body.

No Lana though.

“God damn it Cyril, did you scare her off?!” Archer exclaimed, making hand motions. 

He quickly turned away from the body, and hissed at the sight of you. “Jesus, what did you do- commit genocide?!” Cyril exclaimed, slipping a bracelet into his pocket.

A zip of that body, and Archer crossed his arms. “Where's Lana?”

“She left, she said she needed to get something,” He fixed his glasses, and patted his pocket that held all the stolen jewelry.

The other spy huffed. “ _Of course_.”

“I’m pretty sure she just ditched, she was pretty anti-stealing,” you added.

“It’s not stealing, it's more-” Cyril tried elbaorting.

“Pulling a Carmen Sandiego,” You finished.

“Ha, _nice_ ,” Archer pointed at you. “But yeah, we should head out then, we got-”

And before he could finish, muttering outside the door was heard. _Specifically_ in German. The three of you exchanged glances, and Cyril looked around quickly. 

A motion to a nearby closet, and all of you crammed yourself into it. While the clomping of boots could be heard from outside of it.

Good god, how many people were here too-

“You know!!” You hissed, wiping your bloody body. “I wouldn’t be here, if I hadn’t gotten a call from you from Lana's phone! Which by the by- I don’t know why you’re still using, when you have my number!”

“SHUT UP!” Cyril whisper yelled to you.

“If it bothers you so much, why don’t you have my number?!” Archer retorted.

“Cause you NEVER give me it,” you replied equally as aggravated.

“Look, I’ll give you my number,” He sighed, pulling a pen out of his pocket.

“Is NOW the time-” Cyril started but you ignored it and started patting down to find a sheet of paper or something.

“I don’t have-”

He grabbed your hand and pulled it towards his face so he could see through the dark. The sudden sharpness of the pen, and him making little lines so it’d apply properly felt odd. Finally, the ink worked and he started writing his number down.

“Stop moving,” he muttered, still looking down and keeping the top of your hand steady the best he could. “Annddd- there,” he smirked, letting go of your palm.

You tried to look at it the best you could in the dark. Started with a 917, and the rest were laid out in a nice barrage of sixes and twos.

“Hey- what’d you do with mine. I thought I gave it to you,” you asked, looking up.

“I uhh-” he started, looking to the side and looking through the door you three were trapped in. “I lost it-

“Mhmm,” you hummed.

“Will you two _shut the hell up_ ,” Cyril hissed, pulling you two away from the peak of the door. Suddenly on the cold floor, you sat on your knees instead of just your bottom. 

“Awe come on Cy-” You began, but quickly his hand went over your mouth, pushing down on your skin and pushing you both back more into the closet.

“I don’t think she’s one for initiative man,” Archer joked, sitting up. 

Okay might as well be a child. You stuck your tongue out and licked his hand anddd-

HE DIDN’T FUCKING MOVE IT.

In a muffled voice you started talking. “Cymfhril lmets mef go,” you told him.

“Did you try licking his hand?”

You gave a sharp nod, and Archer cringed. “Dude if she licked you, that means stop.” But quickly- all of you shut up as more steps came towards the door.

Dragging some of the remaining not dry blood off your skin, you wiped it on Cyrils arm.

He immediately retracted and you fist bumped the air.

AHAH, win!!

“That is SO gross,” Cyril whispered.

“Oooo blood!!” You wiggled your fingers, before looking down at how you were still drenched. 

Ew.

The footsteps grew closer, and the three of you pressed more into the closet. Being more crammed. The shadow stopped right in front of the door, and all of you stopped breathing loudly.

It stood there, before Archer just motioned to the door, and made a gun motion. You and Cyril shook a hard NO. You quickly motioned to the shadow, then the blood on you, and then faked a shiver. Making an X with your fingers, he seemed to catch on.

The people here seemed to be much stronger than everyone anticipated, and if you had been slightly incapacitated that meant something.

Archer gave a low, very low sigh, but the steps took another step forward.

You three were practically all crammed into the back.

Finally, the footsteps left. Making loud stomps, while swearing in german. The slam of the door, and the three of you didn’t move. In case he did a bait and switch, and was still in the room waiting for you guys to leave

Deciding to make the first move, you _quietly_ reloaded the gun in your hand. Standing up, and offering your hand to Archer. He took it, and pulled himself up. A quick cock of his gun, and he prepared himself.

Cyril stood up as well, and you pushed the door openly quietly. 

No one there- You pushed it more quietly. Taking the first step out. Looking around, while the two slightly peeked out of the closet. Your back turned to the door you just left, and looked at the rolley tables covered in bodies.

Guard down slightly, you were once more assaulted. 

A hard boot came to your back, and you were lunged forward- only to be grabbed from your neck to be pulled backwards. Being dragged backwards, and seeing Archer and Cyril run out in a small panic.

Seeing your body, struggling against the person.

You kicked and fussed, but quickly- the person put their boot on your foot and gun at the edge of your mouth. A small whimper of fear, and you reached for your gun but rather the attacker moved the gun closer to your mouth.

“Don’t fucking do it, or you’ll get shot.”

You didn’t move not wanting to risk anything, only to see Archer aim his gun in your direction. “Cyril do NOT suppress fire, you could get her killed,” he turned to the guy, gripping his gun. Finally back to the captor. “Let her go.”

“Archer just go look for the-” you started, only for the gun to be lodged into your mouth. You choked, and fussed more. “Come on, let go,” Archer made a hand motion towards you.

“Or what?” The person remarked, taking a step back. “You’re stealing what's rightfully ours, tell me why I shouldn’t kill this girl right now.”

“Bafstarfed,” you muffled an insult, shakily reaching for your gun again.

It was lodged more and more down your throat.

“Jeez, come on. Let her go,” Archer told him again. “I assure you, either you deal with us two or you deal with Lana AND us, and that’s not a nice picture.”

Cyril struggled to set his gun off, but he finally got the safety off and had it loaded. And god knows you knew what was going to happen in the next minute.

The remaining blood on you smeared on the person's outfit, as you struggled to breath with the weapon in your mouth. Very sharp exhales, and they all could tell. “Arkch-”

The person turned the safety off, and cocked it. Damn it-

Literally one wrong movement and your insides are gone, and that was hard considering how hard you were breathing with the lack of flow of oxygen.

And finally, Cyril pulled a _Cyril_ and suppressed fire. Yelling, and shooting the guy smack dab in the shoulder and cheek. You got enough time to elbow him, but ended up getting shot in the arm and thigh in the process. But still, nonetheless-

While you sauntered off to the side, Archer ran up and roundhouse kicked the person straight to the floor. Before shooting him twice in the head.

The body laid limp, while you fell to the floor. Coughing and bleeding.

Far too much action in a while. You coughed more, holding your throat rather than the bleeds. Quickly, Cyril ran over and helped you up. A sling of your arm around his shoulder like done before

Standing up slightly, Archer walked over and slipped his gun into his pocket.

“Who needed saving once more?” He mocked.

You didn’t respond, and held your throat. 

Silence among you three.

“Thank you….” you said barely above a whisper.

More silence.

“We should call the mission off-” Cyril started, but you shoved him off you. Fixing your horrible posture, making it barely above average.

“No. We never call the mission off if someone else gets hurt, this is just a minor setback,” you coughed, rubbing your arm. 

“Says you, who looks like you're about to die,” Archer remarked, looking around for some sorta fabric or wrap.

“I don't usually get this hurt. Most of my missions are quick and easy,” you explained, grabbing a table to lean on. 

He returned with medical tape, towel and mostly empty water bottle. Dowsing the towel in water, and pressing the fabric against your skin. Of course, immediately you pushed back.. But he grabbed your other arm lightly, keeping it straight.

Afterwards, he threw the bloody towel at Cyril. Who struggled to catch it, and let it fall. A wrap around your arm, and it was temporarily fine. “I’d do your leg, but you’d have to take your pants off, and I’m not doing that.”

You nodded, and limped off the table and fixed your positioning. 

Cyril offered his shoulder again, but you denied quickly. Almost making it to the door, before gripping on the side of the exit. With a huff, Archer dusted his outfit. “Picking you up, 3 seconds.”

You prepared yourself, letting go of the wall. With a fell swoop, you were picked up. Held by your back and legs. While Cyril grumbled to himself, the door was pushed over and you three left that horrible room.

You felt like passing out now that you were being carried. A glance at Archer. “Not even any protests,” he whistled. “Must be fucked.”

“I’m borderline bleeding out, I have no right to protest,” you sharply muttered, leaning opposite of his chest. “Thank you though…”

“My honor,” he sarcastically remarked.

You wanted to hit him, but just flopped into his grip. Not moving, and trying not to fall asleep.

“Okay so… let's go to two more rooms, and then head out. I have a few rings and fillings… What do you guys have?”

Cyril walked beside Archer and you, as you wandered the halls. “I got a few bracelets, and some chains and necklaces.”

“I got a few long bracelets, earrings, and I have a question for you,” Archer continued as you three examined the next door.

“Okayy?”

“Why…. do you have fillings… This implies you stuck your fingers in a dead person's mouth WITHOUT gloves, since I know you don’t have any.” He sighed.

You blinked. “I- I wanted to be thorough!!!” You protested. “Fillings are worth a bit-”

“You are so horrible and gross… this implies you ripped it out of their mouth too-” he cringed, while Cyril opened the door.

“Don’t give me that Archer!!” You hit his chest with both of your hands balled up in fists. “You just shot a man like 2 times in the face-”

“Yeah! To save your life for the SECOND time, to mention, that guy to shoot earlier had a total of 16 bullets in him!” He shot back, entering the room behind the other.

“That dude scared me-” you sunk into his arms.

While Cyril was pocketing the corpse, Archer would lean you over a body and make you unzip it and grab things from his arms. And he saw you stick a mouth in the body, and search for fillings. The one time you found one, a quick rip, and a shake.

You slipped it into the baggie that you used to hold all the items.

“You are- the worst,” he shivered, looking away from your baggie.

“Yeah, just wait until that Amory dude sees this, he’s gonna APPRECIATE it,” you explained with a smile.

“Ugh, he was gross-”

“You notice how… the people after us are german, and that Amory dude was as well?” Cyril turned to you guys, zipping the last body back up.

All of you paused, and then you and Cyril glanced at the baggies you held.

You stashed your bag, and went to the com in your ear. Archer fixed his bridal holding on you, while you went onto the network.

“Hey, Krieger,” You asked.

“Speaking!”

“Where's that Amory dude.” Krieger clicked his tongue. 

“Uhm, in the same room as me. On the phone. I’m doing some testing on him, but he can’t hear us cause there's a fiberglass wall.”

“Right, so-- german dudes are attacking us at the morgue.”

“I mean they could be dutch,” Archer offered, and you shot him a look.

“That explains the ‘get rid of them, they are horrible spys,’ line he told the other person on the phone,” He hissed.

“KRIEGER!” You yelled, and you could hear him slightly move in his seat. “What?? Look, I’ll kill him right now.” You went offline, and huffed.

“What?” Cyril asked.

“Drop the shit, the employer's goal was to kill us,” you deadpanned.

“Caaallled it,” Archer laughed. You sighed.

. . . 

* * *

[ おまけ: Omake: Bonus / Noncanon….pew pew ]

Struggling against the guy, he lodged his gun more into your mouth. “Don’t move,” he hissed.

Archer blinked, and took one step forward. “Ohhhh noooo-”

You were beyond offended, and the captor looked really confused. So you hit him harshly, and shot him down. Finally turning to Archer.

“Really?!” You exclaimed. 

“What?! It was worth a shot! You’re worth money!”

\--

“Picking you up. 3 seconds.”

You prepared yourself for another bridal carry. Only to be slung over his shoulder. Wh-

“Archer wha-”

“Bridal hurts my back after a while,” he sighed.

“MY BACK HURTS LIKE THIS, AND I’M INJURED! Do you NOT know the ABC’s of medical priority?!”

“No…?”

\--

Shaking, looking at the blood at your hands… a sudden hand came to your shoulder. Quickly, you shot them in the head.

Focusing you- realized, just who it was.

“Oh shittttt-” you hissed, shaking more with your gun. 

\--

[ おまけ: Omake Over ]

* * *

The silent drive of sitting with your leg up and on Archer since you took up two seats. The four of you guys were dead silent. Lana looked beyond pissed. Cyril looked stressed.

You and Archer were exhausted once more.

Sheer silence, and you simply resting the bottom portion of your body on his legs. A double ditch, and a ton of harm.

“We should take you to a hosp-” Cyril started.

“ _No_ , I’m not on any medical records. I have to have my mentor come in and fix me up, or I have to fix myself up,” you put a hand up.

Stopping any form of talking anyone else wanted to say. “Besides he’s visiting…. In the mid summer-”

“Fun, who is he? Ted bundy or Ed Gein?” Archer remarked.

You rolled your eyes, and rested on the car door more. Not wanting to fall asleep just yet. Still a risk of not waking up in doing so. Which meant you’d have to stay up longer than you wanted too.

But hey brownies in the morning.

A loud huff.

And more silence…

“You think they were Nazi’s?” Archer asked.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, throwing out 3,000+ words every weekend: wow i hope i dont get burnout!!  
> Comments and Kudos are appreciated!!


	13. Crossing Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the HELL do you mean the KGB is coming over?? WHO IS BARRY?? Where's Archer- oh hell, not like you actually cared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p: 3/6/2021 | h: 558 | k: 31 | c: 25 | b: 5  
> barry chapter, what he do, where he go.. sorry its latee also... i'm on break so i'll try to update A LOT this week.

* * *

Glancing over your arm the other day, you had written down Archer's number into your phone. A simple little, _‘Sterling Archer’_ in your device. No plans on texting him then, and no point in texting him now.

Who knows you might add a little emoji next to his name if you were feeling generous.

Fixing the.... large bandage on your arm you looked at your reflection. Very sore, and you had no plans of doing anything extreme today.

For example, fighting a robot. Like sure it’d never happen, but it’d be bad for your arm. Like hella bad… you’re arm would need ACTUAL medical attention.

But hey, that’d never happen!!

Quickly slipping on a thin turtleneck, you were opting out black now a days and more toward… dark grey. A quick slip of a skirt, shorts, and a flip of the small rounding of the shirt…

Day… whatever begins. You knew you’d been there for a few months at least, but it was getting harder to keep track of the amount of bullshit was going on.

A deep sigh, and you were gone! The day began, and the limp in your leg was very hard to deal with. The car incident back pain was MOSTLY gone, but some days you’d wake up and suddenly you felt like you were going to have an actual aneurysm.

Somedays it’d be fine, but after the morgue and being shot twice and having some shitty metal shoved into your mouth… you were slightly more careful with moving and began harshly brushing your teeth more. Hopefully not scraping off any enamel or something-

You could slightly feel the taste of steel in your mouth.

A shiver, and the bright spring light was bouncing off you. Your dark clothing absorbing the heat, and keeping you warm. While a light breeze played with your skin, the two balanced each other out as you walked down the streets. A nice way to keep warm.

Eyeing the building- you felt a… a shiver run over your body. You felt like- today was gonna be ANOTHER incident. Another one- and you weren’t exactly feeling it.

In fact, you were feeling more uhh- Go to the park and pretend like you were sick kinda vibe. And you almost in fact- did that.

But when Archer’s car pulled up with Pam in tow, a wave of relief washed over you. Okay, sure the local smartasses were driving together, but Pam was great! 

Trotting on over to the building, you pulled the laundromat door open. Before the door closed, putting a hand up.

“Hey- Archer wai-”

You watched him start spamming the button. “Ohhh noo- shit, well I think-” he started, before Pam put a hand in between. It stopped, and you jumped in.

A sigh, and you smiled in her direction. “Thank you, unlike _another_ ,” you turned to him, getting rid of the smile.

He grumbled a bit to himself, and pulled out his flask. Sipping it, and you crossed your arms. Turning to Pam. “You look tired. Did something happen?” You inquired.

She sighed. “Yeah, let me tell ya. The whole gang went to a bar, and we DRANK and DRANK, but we ended up ditching a few. And the longer the night went, the more we drank and the more hookers- but god… it ended on such a high note.”

You blinked, taking in the information she just told you.

“Awe, you didn’t invite me this time?”

“The hell would you even do, drink more water?” Archer remarked, and you turned to him unaused. He just smirked, and you turned back to Pam.

“Well, we figured you were pissed about last time. So we decided to let you stay,” she explained. Okay that made sense, they weren’t OBLIGATED to invite you. Hell you were still technically a new worker-

Still kinda hurt, they were- technically still your friends. You hoped-

“Well, I hope you guys consider inviting me next time. I like spending time with you guys,” you told her, before pausing. “Except Archer.”

He snapped his fingers. “There it is.”

The elevator door opened, and you made your way out.

Separating from the two, you made your way to the right. Ditching them, and making your way to the lab like usual. You peaked your head in, and saw Krieger looking at a- seemingly robotic arm.

“Heyy,” you smiled, and he finally turned to you. “Hey, hey!” Making the fingers go into an upward position. You leaned in the doorway and crossed your arms. 

“Were you invited to the party last night?” You asked, and he turned to the side. “Yesss? But I left around the third bar we went to,” he turned back.

You huffed, and he moved the arm in your direction. “Hey, it was actually primarily alcohol based. We didn’t wanna make you upset or anything,” he explained. “Wanna help me with the Android creation? I got some BIG plans!”

You turned to the arm, and looked at the long white sleeve attached to it. Looked silky- or cottony. “I’d actually _would_ like too-” His face lit up. “But I got a meeting with the other morons.”

And there was a somewhat frown or neutral face.

With a sigh, you waved Krieger off, and made your way back into the office area. Stretching your arms, and looking at Cheryl typing away at her desk. She looked up. “Heyy, Ms. Archer wants you in there.”

“I’m aware,” you stared her down. 

She scoffed. “Sheesh, she's more pissy that you took time to visit the local weirdo.”

“At least I’m not a choker enthusiast,” you muttered, pushing the door open and being met with a LARGE screen with- The head of the KGB smack dab on the front.

“Yeah no-” You muttered, turning straight around. 

Quickly Archer got up, and pulled you backwards after grabbing your hand and pulling you backwards unwillingly. He shoved you into his chair, and held you down by your shoulders.

With an aggravated, and now even more painful arm.

“Ow.”

“Yeah deal with it,” Archer responded, and Malory cleared her throat. Shooting you both eyes of daggers, and continuing her speech that you had seemingly missed.

“Yes well,” she finally started. “As stated _before_ , we will be taking Nikolai in as of today. Our goal is to keep him safe from Barry while we prepare to fake his death as well as he prepares to tell us the needed information.”

You coughed, and raised a hand. Malory sighed deeply. “Yes. _Name_?”

“Who’s Barry?” You deadpanned.

Everyone turned to you, seemingly remembering you were somewhat new.

“Some douchebag-” Cyril replied, crossing his arms.

Lana nodded in agreement. “Yeah, he’s uhh… he exists- he’s the head of the KGB now.”

“Yuck,” you cringed, and tried picturing what some dude named BARRY would look like.

Maybe half bald or-- just kinda… bad facial hair. “So we’re helping the KGB whyy?”

“Because mother is _biased_ and is dating the old head,” Archer motioned to his mom, taking a hand off your shoulder. “Which might I add: ew.”

“Ew,” you went.

Malory rolled her eyes, and shut down the large screen. Placing her drink on the table she crossed her arms. “We will be escorting him to the ISIS safe house. Lana, Archer, and Cyril are in charge.”

“I sure do LOVE hierarchy,” you smirked, leaning on the chair, waving Archers hand off. 

She filled her glass up. “You can stay, since you seem to _love_ being late, who knows. Maybe get me a coffee and some breakfast,” she snarkily remarked, which made you return with a deadpan expression.

“Sure,” you returned, with an equally upsetting voice. As the meeting concluded, you rubbed your arm lightly. Stretching outside, and concluding that- 

Yeah she was probably serious about you getting her coffee. Turning to Cheryl- opting on whether or not she would even KNOW what Malory preferred. Maybe asking Lana before she left would be best-

So trotting on over to the woman, you realized this is what your life has been concluding too. After answering, the three left along with Pam… to seemingly pick up the old head of the KGB. 

This was… your job. Your job had been reduced to- getting breakfast for your boss since you had sustained so many injuries in the past few months. And if you weren’t taking in injuries, you were being a bad influence.

Out of the laundromat, you ran a hand down your face in annoyance.

And the walk down the street for an ice macchiato and some banana bread began. And since this was New York, everything in starbucks would be even MORE overpriced than everything in the world. Excluding Nevada and California...

Maybe Egypt.

Down the streets you went, silently. Looking forward, and not enjoying the view. You decided that when you arrived in Starbucks, you’d get yourself something as well… Maybe a brownie and a little- one of the little plastic bottles of milk.

Yeah the good stuff.

While you were walking, a sudden tap came to your shoulder. Turning around, HALF expecting Archer considering your luck- was actually the complete opposite almost.

A blonde man, holding out your wallet, had tapped your shoulder.

Oh he looked- _nice._

_like really nice..._

The bright red was kinda… an odd choice though. 

“I believe you dropped this,” he offered, and you finally broke the staring and looked at your wallet. Taking it, you opened it. No money stolen- Or cards either.

“Uhh- Thanks, I appreciate it,” you looked up with a smile. He returned it. “May I ask where you’re going?”

You blinked. “Oh, just getting some coffee and breakfast for my boss…” You put a hand out after slipping your wallet back into your pocket. “I’m Jack- by the way.”

He hummed, and shook your hand. “Bartholomew, your parents think they were having a boy or something,” he joked, and you gave a light smile. 

“More or less,” you shrugged. Bartholomew put both hands on his hips. “Mind if I accompany you on this trip to Starbucks maybe Dunkin- I assume?”

“How formal,” you joked, and shrugged once more. “Sure, I could use the company.”

And that was how you met a man in some red tracksuit named Bartholomew, and decided to walk with him to a coffee shop. And he turned out he was a VERY nice guy- He lived in France and was here for some business matters.

Nice you could respect the french.

He wouldn’t pry more on those business matters, which made sense- you wouldn’t exactly tell him you were an Assassin. So you told him you were just a small office worker, and just needed some breakfast.

For you and your boss that was- which he pointed out that technically made you her assistant, and you should get a pay raise. So you agreed, cause- YOU DID deserve a raise… how much did you make in the first place??

“So, if you hate your job so much- why don’t you quit??” Bartholomew asked, walking with you closer and closer to the starbucks.

Why were you talking to this stranger?? How about that for a question-

Maybe because he was easier to talk to than most people in the office. He wasn’t exactly intimidating like Lana, or annoying like Archer. He was- sure attractive, but had a flow when you spoke to him.

Weird from a guy named Bartholomew, the hell.

“Well, you know. Sure you get that you need money to live,” you told him. “Also being active is good for a person's mental and physical health.”

“Not gonna lie, you don’t seem like the type to be good in the department of the mental. ‘Specially with that all black you’re wearing, you seem depressed as shit,” he smirked slightly, and you chuckled.

“I get it. But you don’t either exactly. Normal people don’t wear _bright_ red tracksuits,” you turned to him, pointing accusatively with a joking tone.

“Whatt, I look great,” he responded, motioning to the full body. “Amazing, I’d even go as far to say.”

“Well, I think I look amazing in black,” you returned. He put his hands in his pockets. “Dunno- you seem more like a…. White or maybe orange type of girl.”

“Ugh, White?” You scoffed. “I used to wear it, but I stopped-”

“Hey, I like the color. I used to wear a lot more blue and grey. More suits than I do now,” he replied, as you two made a turn. 

You both made eye contact with the starbucks, and turned to each other. Mentally agreeing that.. Yeah you two were going.

Holy shit you made a friend! He was super nice too- like nicer than Lana… Kinda. Maybe like a mix of Krieger and Lana? Yeah that worked- 

You two entered the coffee shop, talking and all around getting to know each other more. Not exchanging numbers, cause there was still a slight chance he was a serial killer.

But hey takes one to know one, and he didn’t seem like one- as least right now.

He ordered a coffee, you ordered your breakfast, and Malory’s as well. Chatting while you waited, and retrieving your food when it came.

And like that you two went outside to enjoy the weather and the brunch.

Sipping your milk, Bartholomew sipped his coffee in hand. You leaned on the outside of the building, and then took a bite of your Brownie. “So, I’m not gonna lie… Your name is SUPER long, is there like- anything else I can call you?” You asked.

He finished his sip, and sighed. “I mean, mostly everyone calls me Barry-”

You paused. There was NO way, and there was NO way this was the Barry from the debriefing. He had been so nice to you… but he continued.

“But I dunno- Yeah Barry works would work-” He turned back to you. You took another bite of your brownie, hoping that MAYBE. Maybe your luck was in the negative. 

“Barry huh? My work place was talking about a Barry today, my luck must be skyrocketing,” you laughed, sipping your milk- be inconspicuous. You didn’t wanna cause a fight that could be avoided.

He returned with a smile. “Well, good ol’ Barry is very easy to talk about.” You simply hummed in response. You finished your brownie, and swallowed it quickly.

“Uhm-- Barry?” you asked, and he turned to you. 

“Yeah?”

“This is probably gonna sound- KINDA weird, If I turn out to be wrong…” You started and exhaled. 

“But uhm… are you head of the KGB? I’d like it if you were honest, and I’m honest to whatever, that I won’t attack you if you are,” you laid it down hard, and he did a double take at your words.

He sipped his coffee again, and gave a deep sigh. Before smiling. “You’re straightforward-” Oh my god, he wasn’t the actual Barry was he? Thank-

“Yeah, I am. No jokes,” he sipped his coffee, and looked forward. “I saw you leave ISIS, and thought you might know Archer, so ya know. I started talking to you in hopes of blackmail, but I kinda got distracted.”

GOD DAMN IT.

Dumb ass- of course. **Of course!**

“So you’re here to… kill Nikolai?” you hesitated.

“Yupp, as payback for making me a Cyborg,” he responded.

Sorry- what?? You threw the paper from the brownie away, and sipped your milk again. You weren’t even gonna… question that whole Cyborg thing… It could be true, it could be fake- 

You had a very small HINT that Krieger was involved somehow, and you were absolutely about to ask.

“So do you know where the safehouse is?” He asked, turning to you slightly.

You didn’t respond, and finished sipping your milk. “I- No- but I could ask Malory-”

“You’d WILLINGLY let me kill him?” He raised an eyebrow, and you scoffed. 

“Well- yes AND no. I hate Malory- a lot. And this is also _technically_ supporting communism by keeping him in the safehouse… but I also have a job- but you’re also so much nicer than everyone in the office-” you rambled, and he laughed.

“Alright, I get it. I won’t pry it out of you,” he smirked. “But your company is a bit nice, so- I might see you again.”

You gave a hefty sigh. “So you’re just gonna.. Go kill him now?”

“Yup, that’s the plan,” he placed his still kinda full cup on the outside table. “Gonna stop me?” He asked.

You paused to think about that.

_But the fact that you paused meant that you knew the answer._

“No I.. don’t think I will.”

He smiled more and took a step out of the area you two were standing in. “I’ll keep in touch then hun,” and with that he started his walk down the street once more.

You watched him silently, holding your milk and looking at the meal you had originally bought for Malory sitting on the window sill you two were standing by.

Barry made a turn, and he was gone

And with that, you looked down the street.

Opting to just walk home… and not risk anything else. Despite your encounter, and the realization in key. The fact you made- kinda friends with the guy were supposed to be looking out for.

Holding your arm, you finally took a step down the street that would lead you back home. With what was now YOUR meal, rather than your bosses.

. . .

* * *

[ おまけ: Omake: Bonus / Noncanon…. Beep boop]

You blinked in the blonde dude's direction. “You don’t look like a Barry-” 

Barry smirked. “Well- you don’t look like a Name.”

“You look like… a Bartholomew!” You concluded, with a hit to your hand and a smile. He took in the seemingly- complement? Insult?

“You look like a… Jack.”

Oh ok, this meant war.

\-- 

Kicking your legs up on Barrys lap, you leaned your back on Archer's shoulder. Holding the script above your head. “You know, I think me and Barry would be _better_ love interests,” you turned to Archer.

He scoffed. “Sure. Just cause he gets a script doesn’t mean shit.”

“I think it means a lot,” Barry added in. You nodded, and Archer just opened to the page he was on. “Yeah, well-- Barry already gets enough attention!!!!”

“Archer, I’m not even a main character-” Barry began, leaning over your legs.

Archer ran a hand through his hair, and shot the cyborg a look. “You do not get _love interest VIP role_!”

You snapped your fingers since you had an idea. “What if me and Barry switched spots!! He could be the protagonist then!!”

The two exchanged glances, and cringed. “He’s not my type,” they simultaneously went.

\--

“What's it like being a Robot?” You asked, walking down the street with him.

“Cyborg,” he corrected, and you rolled your eyes. “Also not as cool as you’d think it’d be. Like SURE, I’m still super hot and have a ton of superpowers…"

"But it’s always- Where's Barry? Not… How’s barry,” he put a fist to his heart.

“Barry's fine though-” he turned to the side. “The sentiment would be nice though.”

You nodded, slightly confused.

\--

“So you just… work for the KGB?” You asked, and he nodded, leaning on the lamp post. 

A beat of silence. Barry seem invested in the atmosphere around you two.

“Is it fun?”

“Hella," he smirked, leaning over in your direction.

Another beat.

“Can I join?”

\--

[ おまけ: Omake Over ]

* * *

You SLIGHTLY regretted talking to Barry, and also SLIGHTLY regretted coming home out of spite. The moment you got that call… you ran out of your apartment in a hurry down the stairs.

Damn it, it was ALWAYS the BLONDES. Fuckin’ Barry…

Shoving your keys into your car, you didn’t even bother to buckle (shame on you, car safety is important) and you pulled out quickly.

Fuck the speed limit, you could pay off a ticket quickly and probably even WIN in court. Down the streets, and you made your way to the ISIS safe house.

A park of your car- and there stood… Mr Blonde-Ass-Cyborg closing the door quietly behind him.

_UGH DAMN IT, he looked above average in that tracksuit._

Quickly running out of your parked car, you made eye contact with Barry, who was exiting the building. Who also looked- satisfied. Red jumpsuit and everything he simply smirked.

“You _dick_ , what did you do,” you hissed, and he chuckled. A slam of your car door, he put his hands in his pockets, and took a step towards you.

“Nothing you can, exactly do now,” he grinned more. “Besides, you’re just one of the more useless ones. Like Carol,” he motioned to the car, where she was knocked out.

You shot him a look, and prepared a fighting stance.

“I _wouldn’t_ do that. I mean, look at the state you're in!” He motioned to your arm and leg, which you quickly looked down onto. Your leg was visibly wrapped, and your arm was- admittedly less nicely set up for a fight than the other.

“That doesn’t mean I won’t beat the shit out of you,” you retorted, getting into the full position. He simply scoffed, and turned to the building behind him. 

“Jack, you’re fun, I’ll admit. I feel like- _maybe_ you’d be more of a challenge than Archer, but I don’t PARTICULARLY have a grudge against you,” he faked a frown, before it turned into that satisfied smile once more.

Wait did he still think your name was Jack?

“Besides what about what you said earlier?” 

You turned to the side. “Pam and Nikolai called… I have a job to do,” you responded. He sighed. “Just doing your job then huh? Yeah Archer would-”

“Oh believe me, I’m no Sterling. I actually do my job,” you squinted, taking a step forward. He took a step closer to you. “ _Sterling_ , huh? I guess I can see the type of professionalism you two have,” he hummed.

You cringed at the idea. Oh god ew, but you kept your positioning. 

That was until you were hit straight in the back. Harshly, but not at the bullet wounds. More of the previous wound from the car, and it hit HARD.

When you thought the feeling had disappeared, you felt the pain surge once more. Quickly you fell forward, catching yourself only barely with your scraped hands on the concrete now.

Behind you, that dumb Cyborg adjusted his track suit with a sigh. “You are in- no condition to fight,” he turned to you, which you returned with a big ol’ bird.

He smiled. “Maybe I’ll take you on when you’re more- not broken.”

You coughed. “I am NOT broken.”

“Your back would say otherwise.. Ms. Middle-aged English teacher. See you around hun.” He put an arm up in a wave.

And before you could say anything, the building EXPLODED. The fire spread everywhere, and the whole area collapsed in one big moment. Leaving you in pain, shock, and anger. And with that Barry walked off, or whatever Cyborgs did-

Fucking dick.

While you strained your body more on the floor, the other group's car seemed to pull up.

Excluding Archers- who was technically supposed to be watching Nikolai.

The moment Malory's car parked right beside your floor ridden body, you didn’t move. You just soaked up the concrete, ready to just… get yelled at.

She stepped out and stared at your bored body.

“Where's Sterling?!” She exclaimed, and you lifted your head. 

“Well not doing his job apparently. Barry came by, and blew the place up to shit... clearly.”

With a motion to the fire ridden building, she blinked.

Malory eyed you before turning the burning building with a form of worry in her eyes. Huh, a first for once. She simply walked away, and pulled out her phone… seemingly calling Archer to tell him of the news of Mr.Stalin 2.0 dying.

And then she started yelling over the PHONE, and not at you.

Dipshit deserved it at least but- still. 

His maybe father was dead- Sitting up on the concrete, crossing your legs. You held you back, and pulled your phone out.

...

Going to your contacts… you hovered slightly over the name of Sterling Archer.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> barrys one of my favs, probably behind pam and cyril...  
> Comments and Kudos appreciated!!


	14. Contacts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tiny little pick me up for your new friend, hoping it didn't hurt to much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p: 3/7/2021 | h: 567 | k: 31 | c: 27 | b: 5  
> a bit of a short chapter! sowwy... i designed this to be short, cause heehoo messages. but ill try to update tomorrow as well, i got some PLANS.

* * *

You pulled out your phone, and took a deep breath. Looking at the arson-ated building, and looking at Malory- who had just hung up with her son. She looked exhausted, and in shock.

As did everyone else, especially Lana and Cyril.

Right, you had Bastards number you could- he never texted him before or called- he was just kinda there. You went to your message board, and typed in _‘Archer_.’ 

Two people appeared. Malory and Sterling. You clicked sterling, and then clicked the chatbox, hoping for the best.

The heat practically reflected onto your skin, and made typing all the more harder.

[ hey, where are you. btw its your least favorite person ]

You stayed in the middle of the parking lot, looking at your car. Cold, but warm at the same time. Nighttime summer coldness.

Suddenly, the little bubbles appeared in the corner of your phone.

SA - [ home. And yeah I heard, don’t need to rubv it in ]

Oh my god, he made spelling errors while texting. Was this a one time thing? He didn’t take time to correct himself-

[ i wasn’t gonna. Was gonna ask if you were ok :( ]

SA - [ oh my god you use emoticons??? No, i hate that ]

[ what? These? >:D ]

SA - [ NO. actually stop. ]

[ seriously dumbass, you ok? ]

SA - [ since when do you care? I thought you like- wabted to kill me. ]

Oh my lord, there it was again. This was _actually_ a consistent thing with this bastard. This was great, does no one text him?!?

[ i mean… idk man you just found out your maybe dad is dead :( ]

SA - [ send another emotiocon. I dare you ]

[ what? ( ͡• ▿ ͡•) ]

He didn’t respond.

[ Archer? ( •︠ ︵ ︡•) ]

[ (ɔ •︠ ⏥ ︡•)ɔ worst spy in the world? ]

SA - [ >:( ]

You covered your mouth and started snickering. Walking to your car rather quickly, and jumping into the driver seat. Locking the door, and putting the keys in with a small smile, despite the situation. 

[ (っ ͡• ᴗ ͡•)っ hes joined the dark side ]

SA - [ STOP TRYING TO MAKVE ME SMILE ]

[ you used an emoticon! You gotta use them now! ]

SA - [ isn’t my _maybe_ father dead? Why should I? ]

You frowned and tapped your chin. [ it might make you feel better. Better than drinking ]

SA - [ there it is anti-alcholhl ]

[ come on! It might help, you dunno. ]

SA - [ no ]

[ alright… what if i said please ]

SA - [ then i’d be shocked, cause your being oddly nice over message and its bothering me ]

A pause.

[ **you’re ]

THAT'S THE ONE THING HE FIXES?? Oh my god what an idiot.

[ please :( ]

SA - [ die. Let me find a website to make one. I hate you ]

You started your car up, while you waited. Grabbing the gear shift, and driving out of the fired area. And making your way home to not deal with the cops, or Malory as of right now. While down the road, your phone went off 

SA - [ (ノ •︡ ͟ʖ •︠ )ノ]

SA - [ happy? For once in your serialll killer life? ]

[ yes. Did it help? ]

You made a turn to wait for him to reply. Doesn't take that long to say no, it totally helped a bit. Your phone finally buzzed.

SA - [ no ]

[ mmm, took a bit didn’t it? ]

SA - [ i’m busy, stupid ]

[ mourning? 【 ͡• ●͡• 】 ]

SA - [ fuckingf ]

[ i hate you. Goodnight ]

You quickly shut your phone off, and threw it to your passenger seat

The absolute AUDACITY he had. Jesus. Finally coming to your apartment place, you parked and made your way up the set of stairs.

Maybe pretending like today didn’t happen, and like you weren’t tired. Searching for your key, you separated it from the other sets of metal and put it in. Shifting it, and unlocking it.

A swift entrance in, and you locked it quickly behind you. Checking your phone. Seeing that- he had responded.

[ goodnight dumbass. Thanks <('.'<) ]

Alright… you smiled, and once more threw the device into your cushions.

Maybe you’d order dinner- it was like 10 and… yeah.

* * *

“So she just texted you?” Pam asked him, and he just shrugged.

“Yup. I mean, I gave her _my_ number since I- lost hers… but-”

“Lemme see-” she started but he pulled his phone away. “God no, you’re _not_ touching my phone.”

“Ass.”

He shut his phone off, and placed it on the counter. Pam stretched on his bed with a sigh, and he closed his eyes temporarily. You-

Texted him to see if he was alright…

Not even Pam asked if he was ok, not even his mother, no one. And sure, he probably deserved it like 1% of it, because he wasn’t watching the Stalin knockoff. But hell-

You literally went, _‘hey are you ok? I’m gonna help you feel better with dumbass emojis’_ and acted like you literally hadn’t insulted him the same day. Like you literally hadn’t- insulted constantly within the time period of you joining the team.

He opened his eyes and glanced back at the phone. The little buzz, and he quickly picked it up once more.

N - [ I’m glad the emojis helped. Sleep well archer ] 

Were you serious? Pam tried glancing at his phone, and he quickly pulled it away.

[ you already said goodnight diopshit ] 

The bubbles came up quickly, you were- absolutely waiting for him to respond. Idiot.

N - [ good god, go to bed it’s like one in the morning >:p ]

[ fine fine fine, i’m telling evertvone at work tomorrow you texted me though ]

N - [ WHAT??? NO COME ON- ]

He laughed to himself, and rubbed his hair down. Flattening it with his hand, and sitting up on the headboard of his bed.

[ goodnight dipshit ]

The little set of bubbles came up but- they went away. He was left being the last one to text, and once more he placed it on his bedside. Dick...

Pulling the blanket over his nude body, he sighed. Exhausted, maybe just _maybe_ , slightly upset. But mood a bit cheered up. Slowly, and silently. He drifted off to sleep

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it physically hurts me not to write the fluff of this story...  
> Comments and Kudos are appreciated!!


	15. Ignored Events

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally meet this old... ex-wife girl. She's pretty, and kind anddd- HE'S HOLDING ANOTHER WEDDINGS god damn it man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p: 3/9/2021 | h: 591 | k: 32 | c: 29 | b: 5  
> my barry appreciating ass coming out the last few chapters: HEYYY  
> archer appreciation: stop, go away. get out. isn't your story

* * *

The spamming of your phone is what woke you up. At a decent time before your alarm at least unlike- the usual 1 in the morning. With an exasperated sigh, you pulled the device to your face. Letting the light illuminate everything.

This was becoming a- daily occurrence. And Jesus Christ, why did you call it. You knew he was a spam texter, and you had to ask Lana how she just-- blocks everything but his calls.

SA - [ opinions on… shirley temples? ]

You huffed, and turned on your side. 

[ ther not alcoholic, so i like em :T super fizzy and sweet ]

SA - [ holvd on- i just gottva emoticiion ]

SA - [ ( ͡¬ -͡¬ ) whatr about wITH alchoholcc ]

You snickered at his deliberate use of the emoji. Fuckin dumbass. 

[ (︡•-•︠) still anti then, shirley deserved to be served with ginger ale, not vodka ]

SA - [ fucking child, jesus ]

Sitting up, you glanced at your clock. 7 am. Why the hell was he awake, you still had an hour- Adjusting your position on your bed, you slumped into your headboard. 

[ how about you go to bed? I still can get an hour of sleep ]

SA - [ sorry thought you were immortal :) ]

[ yeah im surprised i’m alive too ( '︣ ⏥ '︣ )ᕗ ]

Sinking back into your pillows with a sigh, you looked at the window beside your bed. Sun peaked out, just about barely.

SA - [ how many nr death expoeriences have you been in? ]

[ how many days are in 31 years? My life is a constant death experience ( つ﹏╰) ]

SA - [ k so i googled it. 11315. You’re just a dracmitic ass bitch ]

Woah REALLY? You sunk more into your pillow and yawned.

[ ヽ(´ー`)人(´∇｀) im a best dramatic ass bitch ]

SA - [ i hate you and your dumb emotiocns ]

[ 𝓲 𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓽𝓸𝓸 ]

The bubbles came up IMMEDIATELY after you sent that, but you were still tired, and kinda drifting off already.

SA - [ STOP THE DUMBV FONTS AND EMOTICONS ]

A smile spread on your face, and with a sigh you typed your last message before you made use of your last hour. [ go to bed archer, goodnight ]

And before you could turn off your device- your phone went off. In which you were, very sure it was going to be Archer… You were met with Kriegers contact. With a sigh, you clicked the answer button.

“Why the _hell_ is everyone awake,” you responded with a yawn. Krieger laughed lightly on the other side. “Do you wanna help me with the final touch ups on my android?”

“You’ve been working on that thing for like… 4 days, how are you already done.”

“Well- more than 4 days. You’ve only KNOWN for four days, it’s been more like-- since January.”

“Jesus christ- it’s like… almost summer,” your eyes slightly widened before you stifled another yawn. “Krieger, I’m EXHAUSTED…”

“Okay, well Archer told me you were awake-”

“Cause HE woke me up,” you exclaimed, looking at your clock. 7:10. Good god, you’d maybe have 50 minutes of half sleeping/half awakeness. “Krieger, I’m tired.”

“I knowww, but come on!! This is partially revolutionary- A Cyborg!”

“OH! _By the way_ , I have a question for you!” You remembered, throwing your legs over the side of your bed. “Okay I feel like this is going to be an interrogation,” he muttered.

“How is _BARRY_ a cyborg?” You inquired. He clicked his tongue in response.

“Well, How have YOU met Barry? I know he practically ruined your back for the millionth time, but I don’t think he would’ve told you he was a cyborg,” Krieger shot back.

A pause on your end.

“Well- I… Talked to him for a bit before the whole incident-”

“A bit??” His tone was reaching borderline accusatory. 

“Well- I met him while I was getting coffee for Malory, and then we became friends and THEN I found out he was THE Barry, not some random dude named Bartholomew.”

“Wait, his name is Bartholomew?” he cut you off but you continued.

“But he told me he was a Cyborg, and I had a small IDEA you might be involved in it. Cause it’s- It’s you,” you finished, turning on your closet light.

“Fair… and you’re right.”

“KRIEGER!?”

“What?! He asked SO nicely, I just _had_ to make him a cyborg-” Krieger shifted slightly on the other side of the phone, before you both paused while you threw a black skirt out of your closet for today.

“So is Barry a good friend?”

“I don’t know he ruined my back again,” you deadpanned, grabbing a grey button up. It was thrown along with everything else, and with a sigh you grabbed your socks and shoes with a turn of your light. “But he's actually- really good at listening.”

“Yeah well- you never answered my question,” The doctor started coaxing again, and you sighed. “I’m getting dressed right now. Where are you?”

“Myyy apartment.”

You stopped what you were doing. 

“That dump?” You cringed, looking at your laid out clothes. 

Silence on both sides now. “Goodnight Krieger.”

“WH- _NAME_!” He exclaimed. 

“DON’T WHAT NAME ME! That place is SHIT!” 

“Okay YEAH- _But-_ ” but you hung up and threw your phone onto the opposite side of where you slept. You weren’t getting rabies today.

And with that you fell asleep once more.

Only to be woken up 45 minutes later by your alarm. With a slam of your hand, you shut it off, and were able to quickly slip on all your clothes. A hop out the door, a quick lock. 

Just like that, your day began although the denial of even wanting to.

Your back still hurt like shit but… still. You jumped into your car, not wanting to strain your body more. A drive down Manhattan, and looking at your clock it read 8:30. Alright… slightly late. 

You could blame it on Archer. 

Silently you parked your car, and stepped out. A lock of the door, and you made your way into the laundromat. Scanning your card-

And like that, the day began fully unlike before. You rode up the elevator, and stepped out into the main lobby. Immediately, you were met with Pam. 

“It’s Bearclaw Monday!” she offered you a- yeah a bearclaw. You took it and made your way to Cheryl's desk where you hung out with the others.

Talking with Cyril about what you thought future incidents would be-”

“So you just call them incidents?” He questioned, and you leaned on the table. “Yeah, like if it’s Traumatizing or notorious, it’s THE incident. Like me, drugging Archer is incident 2. Incident 1 for you guys is the pirates, and incident 1 for me is different.”

“I have money that we have a run in with the CIA or something-” Cyril muttered.

“Please, probably FBI,” Lana added in, and you chuckled. “I’d hope neither, they both suck…”

The elevator door dinged, and no one bothered to look up. Ignoring that it was probably, indeed Archer.

“And here they are!!” Archer exclaimed, motioning to you all. You stayed leaned over the table with the bearclaw in your hand. “Geese at the through.”

“What-?” Pam questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you- Yeah and thanks for starting my sentence for me,” he motioned to your group of five before continuing. “People standing around for!”

“It's Bearclaw Monday!” She explained, and you piped up. “You want one?” You offered. He looked at the breakfast, and took a large bit off the corner. He plopped it into his mouth and huffed, while you looked amused.

“ _And_ , It’s almost 9:30. Pam, in case you were thinking about- who knows WORKING!” he crossed his arms. You took notice of the suit he was wearing and kinda- were taken slightly aback. Dark blue- which was a first. 

He looked nice.

“Well, someone's just ready to go,” Cyril replied, sipping his coffee.

“Cause I burn clean, _CYRIL_ ,” Archer squinted in his direction. “I don’t fuck up my engine with coffee in the morning, and full bearclaws. Only bits.”

“But it was good, wasn’t it?” You smirked, and he sighed. “Yeah kinda, but that is anything but the point. It’s also because--”

And with that, the woman he had described that one day peeked out from behind the screen you were all sitting behind.

“Hello! Friends of ISIS!” A russian woman looked at you all.

And with that, a gasp from just about everyone but you and Cheryl, and a drop of a mug in fear from Cyril. 

He motioned to the woman. “Also because Katya needs a W-9,” he smiled.

“Holy shitzombies!!” Pam exclaimed. “Yeah I know right? She’s still CRAZY hot.”

Lana took a deep breath, and like that you and Cyril braced for impact.

“HOW-”

“I think it’s cause she doesn’t eat Bearclaws,” He remarked, but she continued.

“-- IS SHE EVEN HERE??” Lana motioned to the woman.

“Waitt, does this mean you and Me-” Pam started, but Archer cut her off. “PAM!” The click of Malory's door brought all of you guys’ attention to the side.

“I swear if you people can’t keep it down, this is the last BearClaw Monday-” She made eye contact with Katya, and stopped everything she was doing. “Is she really-”

“Yeah she’s here-” Cyril muttered, poking the side of her arm. Archer hit his arm down, and you hit Archer’s shoulder in return. “Don’t be a dick,” You shot at him.

“Don’t be a stiff-ass, then maybe I’ll consider,” he returned, equally unamused as you. Katya turned to you with a- happy smile.

“Ah! You must be one of the women who was taking care of Sterling while I was away!” Katya outstretched her hand. “Pleasure to meet you!” 

Her russian accent was HARD, and it was there. You laughed to yourself. “Taking care of _how_ ?” You inquired. “You’re _man_ is an actual _man child_.”

“You know-” Archer eyed you, and you swatted him away and shook Katya’s hand. “I’ve heard about you, It’s a pleasure to finally meet… somehow?”

“Yeah why is a DEAD woman standing here?!” Lana exclaimed, and Cheryl finally pitched in. “Dressed like a whore…”

“Dead woman my ass, she is CLEARLY a double carved up by KGB plastic,” Malory hissed in her direction.

Krieger barged out of his lab. “HOW DARE YOU!” He exclaimed, and with that- it clicked once more.

“KRIEGER!” You yelled, turning to him and he eyed malory rather than deal with you getting ready to beat him senseless. “How dare you fail to recognize one of my greatest accomplishments to DATE.”

“You finally nail YYZ?” Pam asked, unamused.

“Krieger, you said you were making an android, not some dead girl come to life!” You exclaimed in his direction,

“Technically this is a cyborg, I messed up the wording-” He muttered, turning away. “Watch me mess up your _liver_.”

“But, but, but!! Katya, show them!” He smiled, motioning to the woman.

With that she clicked her thigh to reveal the wires embedded into her skin. Everyone cringed at the sight, and exchanged a set of glances and looks.

“I hate you Krieger,” you muttered, and he looked beyond satisfied with his accomplishment.

Cheryl gasped. “The gypsy woman said this would happen….”

“You need to quit going to her,” Pam told her, and Malory cut everyone off.

“And _YOU_ need your head examined if you think that abomination will ever work for ISIS,” Malory placed her empty glass on Cheryl's table. She promptly slid it off, and it broke with a shatter. Muttering about coasters….

Archer’s mother stormed out, and back into her work room. Katya, sighed. 

“Abomination?” She stuttered, and Archer wrapped an arm around her. “Oh you’re not an abomination! I mean, that’s your original skin right?”

Krieger coughing into his hand, muttering. “HOBO-”  
You turned to him aggravated, and with that he took one step towards his lab door. 

“HEY! Katya-person, I’m still- ya know. Processing the fact that you're a Cyborg,” Lana cut in, crossing her arms. Everyone agreed with her, and Archer scoffed letting go of his girlfriend.

“God what are you? Horace Greeley? And good god, was I not clear about that?”

“No,” everyone went, and Cyril went in. “She does feel a bit cold and clammy-”

Archer proceeded to hit Cyril upside the arm and in head. Which you returned with a bonk on his head. He ignored it, and crossed his arms. “Just cause she’s a cyborg doesn’t mean you can _feel her up_.”

“Da… I have feelings just like all of you,” she motioned to you all.

“Don’t motion to Name, she doesn’t have any,” Archer remarked. You groaned in annoyance, and leaned on the desk.

“Now Pam, I want you to go make a W-9 for her so she can actually work here, cause screw what Mother said.”

“You know… sploosh…” Cheryl added, leaning on her desk.

“Actually- I think it might be best if we have someone like this in ISIS,” Lana thought about it. You agreed. “Yeah! Fuck Malory.”

“I meant cause the KGB has BARRY.” You and Krieger exchanged glances, and you leaned off the table slightly.

“I meannnn-” You started, but thank god Katya cut you off. “If I see that bastard again-” There was just a loop…. of people cutting people off. “You want, he’s not gonna hurt you again,” Archer finished.

Cheryl sighed. “Yeah, he never calls, he never writes-”

You sighed deeply, holding your head.

And with that, everyone went their separate ways to get Katya on the team. Archer left with Pam, Lana left to go talk to Malory and you and Krieger gave a hefty sigh.

“You knowwww,” you started, sitting up and stretching your arm. “Maybe I should see if I can come in contact with Barry…”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Krieger replied. “I mean- god knows what Ms. Archer would say.”

“Malory can say what she wants, I just want some answers- and maybe also try and use some persuasion techniques.”

“Why ask HIM questions when you can ask me!” he replied, fixing his coat while you two headed down to the elevator. 

“Cause I feel like I’ll get answers I don’t want, or just lies,” you sighed.

Walking to the door, you clicked open. “I’m taking another day off… I’m gonna go and try to see if I can get the KGBs number or something.”

“You’ve been taking a lot of days off,” Krieger crossed his arms, and you entered the box. “I know, but for good reasons. I'll see you tomorrow.”

You clicked the bottom floor, and when the door closed, you leaned onto the side. A huff, and you closed your eyes.

Once more, you left the building.

Walking down the street, planning to go to your car later, you began your walk. You opted to pull out your phone. Logging out of just about everything, and going to log into a different account.

A bunch of clicks, and different sets of passwords… You kept your eyes on the device, not running into anyone.

Until a tap on your shoulder made you turn around quickly. You shut off your phone, before giving a deep exhale.

“Scared me shitless-” You muttered, shoving your phone into your pocket. “I was actually gonna see if I could somehow call the KGB or something…”

The person in question laughed. “Wanted to see the good ol’ Barry so soon huh?” He smirked, and you shook your head.

“I uh… Actually had some questions, and other things-” you responded, shutting your phone off.

“Well, maybe we could talk over it while having a drink? Perhaps lunch?” He offered, putting a hand in his pocket. 

You didn’t even think. “Yeah sure.”

The two of you started your walk down the street, heading down the street down to the local Arbys for some fries. Not as good as Wendys- or the usual company then but.

Ugh ew did you call his company good-

“Soo, what kinda questions you got? I got some for you Jack,” Barry started.

You blinked out of your thoughts, and gave a deep exhale. “Well for starters, my name is not actually Jack, it’s Name,” you began.

“Precautionary measures?” he inquired, and you agreed. 

“I was actually wondering what you were doing here for starters-” you asked, making a turn.

“Mostly more private business. ISIS stuff, I got a lead somewhere. And if _you_ haveee some information,” he began and you crossed your arms. “No.”

“Fair, I did hurt your back, but still. Nothin’?”

“Nothing that's worth more back pain.”

“Hurt that much?” He laughed, as you two eyed the Arbys. “I’m actually here on the idea that some KGB material that someone bought is in ISIS territory. So, I’m here to get rid of it and also maybe kill Archer. He's my second priority today.”

You thought about what he just said, and you were ABSOLUTELY about to log into every account you had and kill Krieger.

“Really?” you inquired, seemingly confused. “I’d assume maybe Malory of Krieger is using it…” You muttered, jumping up onto the sidewalk that led to the fast food place.

Reaching it, you… were prepared for fighting a cyborg on an Arby's table.

“You assumed correctly, but we can’t have it in possession of you bastards…. No offense,” he pushed the door open for you.

“None taken, I hate working there.”

“Great! So it’s a mutual agreement,” he smiled, while he began his order for you two. While you stood the side, you thought about the fact he was going to fuck up the office probably within the week. Once the food was ordered, and handed out. Two separate boxes of fries, you two stood outside the building.

“Any more questions for the Barry?” He asked.

“Uhh- Was being turned into a Cyborg painful?” You took a bite of your fries.

“Yeah, pretty painful I’d say,” he responded, taking a bite of his as well. Okay yeah it was official, you were harming Krieger. “Cool, cool-”

And with that the two of you chatted, sitting outside the Arbys for a few minutes. Discussing ODIN, the KGB, and ISIS. All seemingly were super bad, you really wished you were working alone once more.

But you enjoyed your time, despite the obvious Cyborgs that were entering your life now.

“You know, hun. You’re cool, so I have this plan,” Barry started, kicking his legs up on the outside table you two were on.

“Around…. Dunno 11:30 tomorrow, I’m gonna barge in. All you need to do, isss skedaddle out of there, and I can promise you won’t be hurt. I get that your back hurts a lot already.”

“I mean it does-” you agreed. He smiled, and sipped his drink. “But is that just-- ok? To just leave while you kill them?”

“I’m not KILLING them. I’m getting my metal,  _ maybe  _ killing Archer on the way. No one else,” he explained.

You thought about it, and leaned on the palm of your hand. “I guess--” you began.

“Great! It’s settled. Long as you leave before 11:30 you’ll be fine, and we can meet up again sometime after that,” he concluded.

“I was going to say I guess that works, but I can’t promise I’ll just leave. I’ve skipped out on work enough times, Malory already fucking hates me,” you laughed to yourself, leaning more into your hand.

“She hates everyone,” he added, with a wave and another sip. “I’m just tellin’ you now. Both Barry’s aren’t very fond of tolerable people dying.”

“Glad I’m tolerable,” you muttered. He shrugged, and a beat of silence between you two. “Welp, I gotta rent a hotel room. Thanks for the lunch time hun,” he got up with his drink.

Just like before, he walked off. You sighed, and stayed on your hand.

He just- halfway threatened you.

Like it was super-half-assed. But also prioritizing your health kinda.

You went home, and stayed up for quite a bit. Not looking at your phone, and just playing games until something else you didn’t want to happen happened.

But it never did, and you feel asleep straight on the couch.

\--

You, utterly exhausted, leaned on the desk like you had the day before. Hearing about Katya’s vagina problems, and the problems Archer was seemingly having with her being a Robot. Yes, Robot.

Which you had been corrected multiple times, in which it was actually _‘CYBORG’_ but you swore the next time Krieger corrected you, you’d let him hope his clones would take his place.

So in an exhausted manner, you were checking your phone clock periodically. Getting ready to book it when you could. Absolutely taking the chance, to skip once more.

“I’m just afraid Sterling does not like me for- being a.. You know-” Katya muttered, turning to the side.

“What whore? Sorry- twice… I have this thing where I crave attention,” Cheryl muttered, turning away from Katya. “But hey! Did you know in chinese the words Crisis and Opportunity are the same word?”

“Your point??” Lana crossed her arms.

“Helloooo??” She paused. “I actually have no idea, they just said that in the hospital.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. God damn it all… “It means that maybe her being a Cyborg is another open door to opportunities for Archer.”

“You think he’s actually gonna take that advice?” Lana deadpanned, and you sighed.

“No.”

“KATYA!” Archer yelled, jumping out of Cyril’s office excitedly. Patting his hair down, and fixing his suit quickly.

She turned to him equally as quickly. Like- not even a beat later. “Will you marry me!!”

Katya gasped, and like that Archer was on one knee. “Really!” She responded, rather giddy. You checked your phone's time, kinda hoping this would go a BIT faster. You had to- book it or else uhmm...

You honestly, really had to book it. Flowers were taken out of vases, and you tapped the device impatiently. You could technically leave right now, but then you’d look suspicious that you left meer MOMENTS before Barry came in.

Taking a crate from a separate room, Ray stood atop of it. The _‘quickie wedding_ ’, as Archer put it was starting.

“Will you be my best man??” He asked you, and you blinked.

“I’m a woman,” you gave him a dirty look.

“Okay, well it’s you or Cyril, and I would... honest to god, have you over him,” he huffed. With a sigh, you became Archer’s best man.

Rubbing the side of your cheek, you held your shoulder.

Good lord, Barry please DON’T…

“Now since the Groom doesn’t have a mother-” Ray continued, holding the book. With that Lana shoved Malory out. 

Seemingly shocked, Archer gasped. “Mother! You came!”

“PHRASING! BOOM!” Pam exclaimed.

…

Everyone turned to her, seemingly disgusted.

Ray coughed to break the silence. “Alrighty then… If no one except mommy dearest is opposed to this wedding-”

And just like that, the elevator dinged and you looked beyond strained in the looks department. You knew for a god damn FACT it wasn’t Brett, because your phone was 3 minutes after the time he said he’d come.

“I, Barry, would LOVE to oppose,” he hummed, walking out of the elevator that was covered in Bretts blood. You hissed, and took a step back.

He turned to you. “Hey hun!”

Everyone turned to you, and you raised a hand as well. “Hey… Barry..?”

“You- YOU MUDAK!” Katya exclaimed, letting go of her flowers and letting them fall to the floor. “Woahhh, language.”

Barry turned to you. “You gonna leave?” He offered, and once more everyone turned to you. DAMN IT MAN, this man was a walking twitter callout post.

“Uhhh, I think I’ll stay?” You kinda told yourself, leaning on the side of the wall.

“Fair enough,” he cracked his shoulder with a turn.

COULD- Could he even DO that?? He was metal right?

. . .

* * *

[ おまけ: Omake: Bonus / Noncanon….wap ]

“Ah, you must be the woman who has been taking care of my darling Sterling!” Katya smiled, holding your hand. “I hope he’s been a good boyfriend.”

“He’s been shitty,” you deadpanned.

“We aren’t even DATING??” Archer grew defensive, looking at your unamused face. Katya simply looked confused, but happy.

\--

“I don’t think it’s fair,” Archer stated, glancing at the book. “TWO Barry chapters??” He exclaimed, crossing his arms.

“I think it works,” Barry shrugged, rolling up his tracksuit sleeves.

You eyed him while he did so. “Yeah, I do too-”

“DAMN IT STOP!” Archer exclaimed, while the group looked beyond confused at the weird interactions and the book he even had in his hand. “Read the tags, it says ARCHER. Sterling ARCHER.”

“Okay but it also says _BARRY DYLAN_ in the tags, just not in the relationships,” He bargained with a smile.

\-- 

You pat Archer's face. He looked, very confused. But you kept the hand on his face. Before it turned into a slap. “You fucking, ROBOT FUCKER!” You exclaimed, while he groaned in pain and rubbed the side of his face.

“DAMN IT-” he yelled, turned back to you, aggravated.

“JUST CAUSE IT HAS A HOLE DOESN’T MEAN YOU SHOULD FUCK IT!”

“I meannn-”

\--

EVERY DAY, you were spammed with messages. Every, fucking day. 

SA - [ die ] [ die, but i don’t know how to make italics on this app ]

SA - [ how do you make those fancy ass fonts?? ] [ NAME, FONTS!! NOW ]

You ran a hand down your face, and sighed. 

\--

[ おまけ: Omake Over ]

* * *

“YOU KNOW BARRY?!?” Lana exclaimed, eyeing you while you finally looked up from your phone.

Ahhh shit.

“Uhmmm. No?” you attempted.

Literally, NO ONE believed you. You didn’t even believe that, cause it was super unenthusiastic. “Okay well…”

“Don’t just- OK well this Missy!!” Malory exclaimed, slamming her cup on Cheryl’s desk. “This should be the LAST STRAW.”

“I didn’t INVITE him here, you heard what he said. That’s on Krieger!” You motioned to where he was supposed to be, but he had already booked it to his lab.

Coward. You turned to the side slightly. Annoyed. “How do you know him??” Cyril inquired. 

“Yeah, I get he like- almost broke your back but that happened in a few seconds,” Pam added, looking around. 

You rubbed the side of your arm. “Well, maybe before the whole KGB fire incident, I ran into him and kinda maybe became friends with him without knowing he was Mr. Cyborg-Barry,” you ranted.

No one looked amused, but no one really looked shocked either. Archer still looked upset after Katya.

“Yeah whatever, goodnight,” Archer muttered, shoving past everyone in a tired manner. You frowned, and watched him just wait for the elevator to click open. In doing so, he grabbed one of the crates that was still in there and grabbed a drink.

While the door closed, he popped the cap to one. And leaned on the side, with an upset sigh.

“You’re suspended,” Malory told you, as if her son hadn’t trudged off.

“Yeah sure-” you waved her off, and opened your phone once more and trotted back to the elevator. You spammed the button, and this time everyone watched you wait for it to open, and jump in.

Skipping work once more.

You went to your message board, going to the little ‘ _Archer 🍸💼_ ’ below your other contacts. 

Dealing with the others was- kinda a second priority. Man seemed partially traumatized, less traumatized and kinda heart broken.

[ hey, i’m only partially sorry about barry, you ok? ]

You waited for a bit outside the laundromat, and had a leg kicked up on the side. The borderline summer heat beating down, but the spring wind kicking it closer. 

SA - [ im notr even surprised its PARTIALLY ]

[ you gonna answer the question? ]

SA - [ no i’m no tok, and it kinda doesn’t matter, no thank you for asking ]

Okay well he answered at least. You sighed, and looked at your car and then the building. Hopefully he didn’t pull a- pirate incident you had heard about last time. But he seemed like he was not going to based on the whole atmosphere. 

Might as well ask.

[ don’t pull a pirate incident again ]

SA - [ yeah, NEVER again. Well… mnaybe again but no. i’m dricing home for a drink ]

[ DON'T DRINK, TEXT, AND DRIVE??? ] 

He didn’t respond, and you seemingly thought that… maybe he listened. Since he didn’t reply. By the time you were halfway down the road, to go home and sleep all of this off, he responded. 

SA - [ happy? See you at work in like a week or 2 days. Depends ]

[ feel better then? ] you simply responded.

He didn’t respond, just gave a thumbs up to your message. A somewhat satisfied sigh, and you once more looked forward on the road.

God...

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy to say i have all the way to ch. 29 planned and prepared, but not written yet.  
> Comments and Kudos are appreciated!!


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